


Canis Majoris

by uselesslesbian4660



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Body Horror, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mental Health Issues, POV Remus Lupin, Slow Burn, tall remus supremacy, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29821038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uselesslesbian4660/pseuds/uselesslesbian4660
Summary: Essentially a retelling of the Marauders' time at Hogwarts and beyond from the perspective of Remus Lupin, written in order to help me deal with my own issues. Remus is one of my all-time favorite characters in literature and one I have heavily related to for a long time. Canon-compliant through 1981; fanon afterward because I am tired of the trope of queer relationships ending in tragedy. Wolfstar.This fic will include mental health issues such as anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation, low self-esteem, internalized homophobia, and body issues. Please be kind to yourself. These concepts are very prevalent in the undertones of this fic.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

It was the dead of winter, and a cold wind blew, gently rustling the leafless twigs that decorated the trees surrounding a small house. The sky was dark as pitch, and of the same thick, viscous consistency, broken only by shafts of glimmering moonlight from the bright orb hanging lazily in the sky, easily outshining the little stars around it. At its fullest, every other bright spot in the dark was just a tiny dot of light compared to the moon. In the small house there was a small room, and a small bed, and a small boy tucked up under his blanket. The only thing that could be seen beneath the roughly sewn patchwork quilt was a mop of curly auburn hair. He slept soundly, breathing softly and curled around a small stuffed form, as young children are wont to do.  
Outside of the confines of the cottage - and it was a true cottage at that; only one story, but for a small cellar - the perfect white of the snow, and the perfect silence of the night, was broken by the crunch of footsteps on the frozen ground. A figure hung in the shadows of the trees, a large and dark figure with glowing yellow pinpricks for eyes and white flashes for teeth. It prowled around the small house, tapered nose working furiously. Then slowly, slowly, it crept to a window. A small window, and behind it was a small room with a small bed with a small boy.  
Then the uneasy quiet was well and truly ended by a crashing leap made by the dark figure, followed by the ear-piercing scream of the small boy, and the sickening crunch of a large animal sinking its teeth into bone. Quickly, a tall man thrust open the door to the small room, and a red burst of light was sent from the wand in his hand. The dark figure let out a whimper and dashed off into the night to lick its wounds, but it was too late; the night was painted red with blood.


	2. The Hogwarts Express

Remus John Lupin could have been mistaken for an ordinary boy. His hair was longer than his mother would have liked it and messy, despite endless attempts to tame the haphazard curls into appearing somewhat presentable. He was taller than most boys his age, with shabbier clothes, but that wasn’t what set him apart either. Really, anyone who looked at the young boy standing with his father on Platform 9 ¾ of the King’s Cross Station wouldn’t have thought anything of him. He was a wizard, of course, but so was everyone else on the platform - already bustling with hundreds of people in strange dress, clustered around a brilliant scarlet train with the letters ‘Hogwarts Express’ emblazoned on it in gold. What a casual passerby wouldn’t realize is that technically, Remus wasn’t a human boy at all. He was a werewolf, and it was something he would never be able to ignore.

Beneath the tatty robes he wore were scars upon ropy scars, from small nicks barely half an inch long to the massive teeth marks that marred the left side of his body, stretching from the dip where his heart lay to the small of his back. Behind his tawny curls his eyes were hidden, ringed with dark circles and more yellow than they ought to have been. And inside of his head, instead of the usual concerns of a ten and a half year old boy (such as pulling on the cat’s tail or splashing the young girls playing in the river), was true fear.

From an early age, it had been drilled into Remus’ head by his father that anyone who knew his secret, aside from his parents, would feel nothing but hatred for him - assuming they didn’t try to kill him, or god forbid, turn him in to the Ministry for Magic. Werewolves usually weren’t executed unless they had put another in danger; but the stories Remus had heard about the mysterious ‘reservations’ young werewolves were sent to were enough to put the fear of Godric in him. But at the same time - his mother had never been so worried. She let him play with the muggle boys in the village, and took him on quick visits to the market when his father was away. Which would be worse - isolating himself from everyone around him, or risking everything and possibly ending up dead in a gutter?

His father tightened his grip on his arm as the train whistle sounded again. “Remus?”

“Yeah, dad?”

“Just - be careful okay? You have got to be careful.”

Remus frowned. This was easily the twentieth time his father had said that today, and considering the mayhem that followed his unforeseen Hogwarts letter, the phrase was drilled permanently into his brain. “I will.” It would have been pointless to tack a ‘don’t worry’ onto his response, he knew the man would worry regardless. He gave his father one last hug goodbye and, with much trepidation, stepped onto the Hogwarts Express.

The train was fairly empty - he assumed that other children were still wishing their parents goodbye. He did pass a compartment with a ginger girl who had a wide grin on her face, but she was accompanied by a pale boy with greasy black hair who scowled at him when he looked their way. He settled for an empty compartment near the back of the train, and, resigned to being alone, drifted off to sleep before the train began moving.

* * *

Remus was awoken an indeterminate amount of time later by a cracking ‘BANG,’ amplified by the small size of the train compartment. He stirred groggily, eyes thick with sleep, and found himself sitting with two blackhaired boys. One was fair, with unblemished skin and high, defined cheekbones; his satin locks fell neatly to the nape of his neck. The other was darker, with round glasses and hair so unkempt it made Remus wonder why his mother had ever fussed so much about his own.

“Er - sorry,” the bespectacled boy grinned. “Firecracker. Got to start off the school year on the right foot, eh?”

“James,” mewled another voice. It had come from a third boy he hadn’t noticed before - smaller than his two friends, and a bit pudgy, with a blonde bowl cut and rosy cheeks. “You woke him up!”

“Oh, don’t be such a prat, he was bound to wake up eventually,” the boy, apparently named James, replied. He shifted his attention to the gangly boy sitting across from him. “Hullo, I’m James Potter. That’s Peter Pettigrew,” he said, nodding to the blonde beside him. He was interrupted quickly by the long-haired boy, who hadn’t yet spoked, apparently not wishing to be introduced by someone else.

“And I’m Sirius Black.” Remus recognized the name, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Clearly he had paused for a second too long, because the boy grimaced. “Yeah, those Blacks.”

“The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, Sirius,” James scolded. “Anyway, who’re you?” Ah, shit, there it was. Even though it had only been a few months ago that he’d played football with a few of the village boys - a rare luxury - he found himself at a loss for words.  _ Say something, idiot! _

“Ah, er, I’m Remus Lupin. Pleasure to meet you.” The boys must not have noticed his gaffe, or maybe they just didn’t care, because they proceeded to talk his ear off about how excited they were to be going to Hogwarts. James told stories of his dad’s time at the school, and Sirius complained about his ancestry and made claims he would be ‘different from the rest.’ It was easily ten minutes later before little Peter, in his squeaky voice, thought to ask, “You are a first year though, right?”

“Er, yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. You’re a bit tall, is all.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “And you’re a bit short, are you sure  _ you’re _ a first year?”

“Hey!”

“Ickle Petey-kins, clearly he’s too young to come to Hogwarts!” Despite the jibe, Peter didn’t seem upset, and for the first time in a long time, Remus found himself smiling.

* * *

Eventually, the Hogwarts Express made a hard stop, and Remus supposed they had finally arrived. Still, it didn’t really hit him until they stepped out of the train and he actually saw the castle. It towered into the air, far bigger than he’d ever imagined, nearly every window bright with welcoming candlelight. It sat proudly above a massive lake, which at first had been hidden by the fog rolling in. It was dark, waves gently lapping at a congregation of boats near its shore, and given the rapidly cooling temperature it was probably freezing. Remus didn’t fancy a swim.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years, this way!” A booming voice called from the boats. The man it belonged to was utterly massive, looming over the students, with a patchwork coat, a dark curly bear accompanied by a mane of hair, and an oddly out of place pink umbrella. “Firs’ years over here, and watch your step!” Remus sidled over to the rapidly forming group of children around the man who, evidently, were like him - new to Hogwarts.  _ Not like you, _ that little voice in his head reminded him.  _ Never forget that. _

Once the man seemed satisfied that he had gathered all of the first years, he continued his speech. “Alrighty, then. My name is Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Careful now, no more an’ four to a boat, an don’ fall in!” Despite his best efforts, he was separated from his mates ( _ His mates? Never had those before, _ ) and ended up with the ginger girl and the pale, greasy boy he recognized from when he had first gotten on the train.

The ginger was still clearly wonderstruck. Remus couldn’t blame her - frankly, so was he. “Oh, Sev,” she sighed, probably referring to the boy beside her, “you said it would be wonderful, but I never imagined this!” The girl smiled dreamily, and the corners of the boy’s mouth twitched slightly before he remembered Remus was there and he scowled instead. This caught the attention of the girl. “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met! I’m Lily Evans.”

“Oh, er, hullo. I’m Remus Lupin. Nice to meet you.” Beside him, the pale boy snorted.

“That’s a terrible name. What, were you raised by wolves or something?” The boy, (Sev?) sized up Remus quickly, noting the poor condition of his robes. Not that he had any room to judge, considering the state of his own - they were so faded they were more brown than black, and there were several worn patches sewn in. Remus fought back a wave of panic - the boy hit closer to home than he possibly could have known.

“Oh, really,  _ Severus Snape. _ You’re not exactly one to be talking,” Evans retorted. She opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted when their boat suddenly lurched forward, causing Remus to stumble and nearly fall into the lake before the boat steadied itself and sliced cleanly through the water.

A second boat quickly pulled up beside him - the boys from the train, plus another young boy who was staring at the small ripples their boat made in the lake, already tired of their antics. “Ha! Snivellus, is it?” James called. Snape blushed furiously, a stark contrast to his fair skin. James’ jibes were interrupted by Sirius leaping on his back and trying to dunk his head into the water. James shoved one hand up against his spectacles and used the other to try to fend off his assailant. Evans rolled her eyes and struck up a quiet conversation with Snape - Remus tried not to eavesdrop, but it sounded like something about the glories of Slytherin - one of the Hogwarts Houses. Remus hadn’t given much thought about the houses. Well, that wasn’t entirely true - he had purposefully  _ not _ thought about the houses, or where he might end up, other than allowing himself to consider the possibility of Ravenclaw - that’s where his father had gone. His mother, being a muggle, hadn’t gone to Hogwarts at all.

The fleet of boats, headed by Hagrid in a ship all to himself, reached the shore and smoothly glided up onto the sand, barely jostling their passengers despite how they had jumped before. Remus jumped out of his boat quickly and immediately slipped on the slick rock, nearly toppling over. Lily giggled behind him, and Snape snorted derisively.  _ Snivellus, _ the nasty voice in his head muttered. Remus dusted off his robes quickly and hurried over to the other boys, who had leapt from their boats in a similar fashion - James somehow even managed to end up flat on his arse.

-

If Remus thought he had been impressed by his first look of the castle, he was wrong - the fortress appeared even more large and imposing when it stood above him. It was easily seven stories high, with countless windows, and four towers that touched the sky with their tall spires. The gaggle of young students shuffled into the Entrance Hall, equally magnificent, which was lit by bright sconces that cast shadows on a woman standing before them. She was tall, like Remus’ father, with a severe face and a dignified hat decorated with a feather. The woman peered down her glasses at them.

“I am Professor Minerva McGonogall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House. Here at Hogwarts, you will be sorted into one of four houses - Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.” The woman spoke in a thick Scottish accent. Beside him, James muttered something about Slytherin. Clearly, unlike Snape and Evans, he didn’t hold the House in high regard. Professor McGonogall cleared her throat and continued her speech. “Your House will be like your family here at Hogwarts. Do well, and you will be rewarded with house points; cause mischief, and house points will be deducted accordingly. At the end of the year, whichever house has gained the most points will win the House Cup. You will be sorted into your houses by the Sorting Hat, and called by alphabetical order.” With that, McGonagall led them into the Great Hall - Remus recognized the name from Evan’s and Snape’s mutterings, because surely no other room would have a ceiling enchanted to look like the night sky?

His father hadn’t told him much of Hogwarts, so while he wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting, it certainly wasn’t a ratty old house singing a ballad about the talents of each house. It was a catchy tune, but Remus couldn’t focus much on it at all, instead contemplating the impending sorting. Really, it might be his impending doom. He imagined with increasing horror the hat refusing to sort him, and instead shrieking ‘WEREWOLF’ before...well, eating him or something. The hat appeared to have a mouth, and Remus hadn’t gotten that far yet.

One of the first to be sorted was someone he recognized - “Black, Sirius.” As he placed the hat upon his head, the hall grew quieter than it had been before; but hardly thirty seconds later, it bellowed,

“GRYFFINDOR!”

There was a shocked gasp by a dark-haired girl at a table with green banners. The entire hall was silent - even Sirius gaped, at a loss. But then the reedy voice of James Potter shouted “Well done, Sirius!” and the long haired boy broke into an uneasy grin and rushed over to a table with red and gold hangings.

The sorting continued, the list drawing ever closer to him. He cursed himself for being born ‘Lupin’ instead of something near the end of the alphabet - ‘Zimmermann,’ or something. He tried to clear his head and listen to the sortings happening before his own - he was surprised to hear ‘Evans, Lily’ sorted into Gryffindor. Snape wouldn’t be happy about that.

Still, all too soon, a call of ‘Lupin, Remus!” summoned him to the front of the hall. Cold sweat welled on his palms, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. He sat on a proffered stool and the hat was planted unceremoniously onto his heat.

_ Well, what have we here?  _ It mused.  _ A predicament. Intelligent, sure, and a lust for knowledge. But someone like you has got nerve to come here. _

__ _ You won’t tell anyone, will you? _

__ _ No, you needn’t worry about that from me. Yes, there’s some recklessness there too, though you haven’t let yourself feel it yet. I think you would do best in, _

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Remus, just relieved that he hadn’t been outed, stumbled to the bench Sirius was at and sat down next to him. He patted Remus on the back, who could only nod weakly.

Still too nervous - and frankly, too exhausted - to focus on the sorting, Remus only barely noticed that Peter and James wound up in Gryffindor with him as well, the sorting hat taking nearly five minutes before making a decision for the former. He did manage to watch Snape, the only other person with a name he knew, get sorted into Slytherin. That was sure to put a knacker in whatever plans he and Evans had. All in all, there were about thirty new students in each house.

Headmaster Dumbledore was a tall man with a long white beard that swished in front of him while he spoke. Remus had met him before, when his parents had concerns about the safety of Hogwarts - not just that of Remus, but of the other children as well. “Students would be well to remember that the Forbidden Forest is, of course, off limits. There is a comprehensive list of items banned from the school grounds, generously provided by our caretaker, one Argus Filch. This year, we are also home to a young Whomping Willow tree, courtesy of Pomona Sprout. It is a very combative plant, and it would be wise to avoid it.”

Not a moment too soon, the shining platters decorating the four tables were filled to the brim with the makings of a feast - roast beef, chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, smashed peas, blood pudding...the food was nearly endless. Remus breathed a deep sigh of relief when he picked up a fork and found that despite their appearance and name, the utensils weren’t actually made of silver. Despite having been starving on the train and loading his plate nearly as high as Peter’s, he found that he hardly ate at all.

* * *

Eventually the food disappeared - “I wasn’t done yet,” Peter complained - and they were rustled up by two older Gryffindor students with gleaming badges on their breasts. One was a fair-skinned boy with close-cropped brown hair who introduced himself as ‘Frank Longbottom’ and took the lead of the group, which was reared by his counterpart, a girl called Alice Turner. Longbottom prattled on about the castle and their classes, and Remus forced himself to listen. “...get lost the first few days, but the professors are lenient the first few days of classes - well, except for McGonagall - and if you ever can’t find your way, just look for a Prefect like me or Alice.” He led the Gryffindor first years up a winding flight of stairs, warning them here and there about trick steps. “Don’t want to spend the evening fishing you lot out of the staircase!”

After an eternity of walking, filled with an infinite monologue about the castle, Longbottom finally stopped them in front of the portrait of a voluptuous woman holding a wine glass, who gave a friendly wave to the first years. “Alright, this is the Fat Lady - you have to give her the password to enter Gryffindor tower,” the Prefect said. “This month’s is Swedish Short Snout. You’ll be notified whenever the password changes.” With that, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and behind it lay a cozy room swathed in red and gold, from the more obvious pennants to the pinstriped cushions. It was a perfect circle, and there were several large windows that looked out onto the castle ground. “This is the Gryffindor Common Room - there’s no curfew, but the OWL and NEWT students would prefer that things be kept quiet after around midnight. Speaking of curfew,” at this he eyed his young charges knowingly, “first years are expected to be in the tower by eight.”

“Eight? What are we, babies?” James grumbled. Longbottom laughed.

“Well, you’re not exactly the top of the totem pole,” he chuckled, and James’ ears went red at the tips. “I think that’s it. Boys dorms are to the left; girls, to the right. Your doors and labelled with your names and your trunks are by your beds. Have a good night!” He strolled off with the silent Turner, who gave the first years a wink before wrapping her arm around Longbottom.

Remus followed the other boys up a grand staircase, thankfully nowhere near as long as the ones leading up to the tower - his feet were already aching, and he was about ready to collapse. He quickly pushed open a door with his name on it and was greeted by a jubilant James and Sirius; he found Peter scurrying in behind them, and he quickly shut the door behind him.

As Remus flopped onto his bed, hardly wanting to move, James appeared to be rousing himself for a speech, and Remus groaned inwardly. But the tousle-haired boy kept it short. “Well, lads, together in the train, together here now - I reckon it’s fate,” he grinned wickedly. “I’m sure they’ll all regret that soon enough, eh?” Remus sighed, suddenly wishing he had ended up with quiet roommates.


	3. First Mission

The four boys were eating breakfast in the Great Hall - rather, Peter and Remus were eating, while James and Sirius tossed sausages back and forth at each other - when a large screech owl dived at their table, clutching a red envelope in one of its talons. The owl landed unceremoniously in front of Sirius, knocking aside his plate and dropping the letter in front of him before quickly swallowing one of his sausages and taking off. The boy picked up the envelope in his hand - worry clouding his steely eyes for a moment before ripping it open.

The hall was filled with the vicious, shrieking voice of an absolutely livid woman.  **“Sirius Orion Black! How dare you choose to be sorted into Gryffindor with a bunch of blood traitors and snivelling mudbloods - you have brought shame upon the family name!”** Remus was nearly cowering, wishing that he could dash off and hide until the dreadful noise stopped. The voice shouted a few more obscenities at Sirius, demanding he be resorted, then burst into a small puff of smoke, ashes dusting the table. All eyes were on Sirius now, but the boy just laughed and shrugged, jostling Peter, who was sitting beside him. 

“Well, that’s my mum for you, aye?” The little blonde boy smiled weakly, but James laughed, though it was a bit forced. “Bloody nightmare,” Sirius chuckled. Remus gave him a concerned glance - surely he couldn’t be that nonchalant about being berated by his mother on his first day of classes? - but the other boy was entirely unbothered by the letter, even smiling slightly as he read it, and Remus shrugged and continued to shovel scrambled eggs into his mouth. The full moon was only a few days away, and it wasn’t uncommon that he was absolutely ravenous before and after.

Everyone eating breakfast at the Great Hall was given their schedules by the Prefects, and Remus eagerly looked over his - the Gryffindor first years had Transfiguration and History of Magic before lunch, and afterwards had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, followed by a free period and dinner. He had never had much of a green thumb, but from watching his father occasionally turn a button into a paperweight he figured Transfiguration would be interesting, and having started the first few chapters of  _ Hogwarts: A History _ he was nearly bursting at the seams to learn more.

Remus left the table as soon as he had scarfed down the rest of his breakfast so as not to be late, leaving James, Sirius, and Peter to their own devices. The first years had been given a sort of rudimentary map, but he was still hopelessly lost when he bumped into Lily Evans, who was accompanied by another girl.

“Oh! Hullo, Remus, are you lost too?” Evans asked politely.

“Yeah, I must have taken a wrong turn at the last portrait...I haven’t a clue where I am now, to be honest.”

“That’s okay, we can find our way together!” The ginger smiled. “Mary, have you met Remus yet?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m Mary MacDonald, and you’re Remus..?”

“Remus Lupin - pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Right, then!” Evans announced. “I think if we go back down that hallway there and make a left after the portrait of the three-headed dog, we’ll make it to Transfiguration just in the nick of time.” Without any further input, the girl marched off in the direction she had indicated, leaving Remus and MacDonald to trail behind her.

* * *

The trio made it to transfiguration just before the clock struck nine. Remus settled himself near the middle of the room, while Evans and MacDonald sat in the front row of desks with another girl he had met last night, Dorcas Meadowes. On his left there was a boy who introduced himself as Elijah Craft; on his right were two empty seats. Remus scanned the room for his dorm mates - Peter had managed to seat himself in the back of the class, but James and Sirius were nowhere to be found.

The class was taught by Professor McGonogall, their strict Head of House. She had just begun her lecture on the basic formulas of Transfiguration; how it required a very clear mental picture, and the difficulty of changing an object’s size, when she was interrupted by two young boys bursting through the door to her classroom. “Ah. Potter and Black, I presume? Five points from Gryffindor for tardiness, please find an empty seat and remain silent during the lesson.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” James cried. “It’s our first day, we got lost!”

“Your peers managed to make it here in a timely manner, Mr. Potter, and I expect you to do the same. Please refrain from interrupting my lesson again, or I shall make it ten points from Gryffindor,” the witch said, sternly regarding the pair of boys while they settled themselves in the two empty seats beside Remus, barely managing to keep themselves still. The lesson turned out to be only a lecture, with promises from McGonagall that once she felt they had mastered the basic idea, they would commence with turning sewing needles into matchsticks. James grumbled something to Sirius about wanting to do ‘real magic’ as they left the room, quickly followed by Peter dashing to their heels. Remus was gathering up his belongings when he was interrupted.

“Mr. Lupin? Would you stay after for a moment, please?” Remus froze. It had only been one day, surely he couldn’t be in trouble already? As if reading his mind, McGonagall placed a guiding arm on his shoulder. “You’re not in trouble, Lupin, I would just like to speak with you for a moment regarding your…” she glanced around the room, making sure it was empty, “...condition.” That was putting it delicately.

“Er, sure, I guess.” The witch acted pleasant enough, but Remus didn’t quite trust people above him - or anyone, for that matter, but especially authority.

“Wonderful. If you could please step into my office?” With a flick of her wand, a second door in the classroom sprung open and the pair stepped inside, the professor stepping behind a tall desk, leaving Remus to sit opposite to her on a small bench. “I know Headmaster Dumbledore mentioned that we would be managing your...condition, during your stay at Hogwarts, but he did not venture into the specifics, correct?”

“Er...no, Professor. Sorry, Professor. He told my parents, but not me.”

“There is no need to apologize, Mr. Lupin. Now, I am correct in assuming that the full moon is on the fifth?” Remus nodded weakly. “If you would please report to the hospital wing before sundown, the matron and I will see you to a place where you may safely transform. She will collect you in the morning, and you may attend classes again as soon as you feel well enough.”

“Thank you Professor. Is that all?” Remus queried. He was surprised that the witch hadn’t commented much on his lycanthropy, but he still found himself uncomfortable around anyone who knew, sometimes even his parents.

“Yes, Mr. Lupin. Please see yourself to your next class; I imagine you will manage to arrive on time.” Remus nodded, gathering his things and trying not to flee out the door.

-

Despite what Professor McGonagall had suggested, Remus was five minutes late to History of Magic, and he crept in quietly, trying not to draw any notice to himself. The instructor, Professor Binns - Remus was surprised to find he was a ghost, who floated aimlessly up and down the front of the room - paid no mind to his tardy pupil, and Remus sat by James, Sirius, and Peter.

“Hey, mate, where’d you go?” James whispered loudly. Remus glanced over at their ghostly teacher, but the spirit continued droning on.

“Just talking to Professor McGonagall,” he said, much quieter than James. “My…er, my mum is ill, and I have to go visit her sometimes...we were just, uh, settling the arrangements.” Remus cursed himself for not coming up with a better excuse, hoping his explanation would at least seem plausible despite his stumbling words. James shrugged, satisfied with the explanation and went back to whispering with Peter, but Sirius gave him a questioning look. 

“Is that all? What’s wrong with her?” Nosey git! Remus was dumbstruck.

“Ah, she’s, ahem, that is...she’s a muggle, she has a muggle disease. Wizards can’t cure it, it’s pretty deadly, actually.” He sounded a bit more severe than he intended, but that’s what happens when you can’t mind your own damn business. Sirius, properly chagrined, jumped into conversation with James and Peter, who were gradually increasing in volume, debating the merits of professional Quidditch teams. With the addition of a third member, their little huddle finally drew the attention of Professor Binns, who cleared his throat - did ghosts even have throats? - loudly, before continuing with his droning lecture on the Gargoyle Strike of 1911. Sighing, Remus resigned himself to taking notes, despite how the endless monotony of the ghost’s voice was an irritating buzz in his ears.

* * *

Lunch was much the same as breakfast, although this time James and Sirius actually ate their food instead of using it as ammunition, and they weren’t interrupted by anyone’s angry mother. The boys had the good sense to follow Remus this time to their next lesson, who managed to escort his friends there without making too many wrong turns to the greenhouse. A few students with black and yellow ties were already there - the class was taught by Professor Sprout, who was the head of Hufflepuff house, and was already in avid conversation with one of her students. First years continued to trickle in, and Professor Sprout instructed them all to stand around the tables scattered about the room, each with a large pot of...something. The plant in question was a wriggling mass of thorny vines that lashed out at any student unwise enough to venture too close.

“I think that’s everyone here,” Sprout said, ticking off a box on a piece of paper before it vanished. “Now, then. Who can tell me what this is?” She held up another pot of the unruly plant. Two students from Hufflepuff raised their hands, but Sprout picked Lily Evans, who was also waving her arm eagerly in the air.

“Devil’s Snare, Professor!”

“Very good, miss..?”

“Evans, Professor.”

“Very good, Ms. Evans, five points to Gryffindor.” The red-head grinned, and the darker girl beside her elbowed in the ribs. “Devil’s Snare, as it is known, is a plant with the ability to constrict anything it is able to wrap its tendrils around. One might compare it to a snake, although while the plant has the ability to strangle its victims, it does not eat them.”

“I would sure hope not, plants ought not to have mouths,” Sirius muttered. Professor Sprout didn’t seem to hear him, or if she did, she didn’t care, continuing her lecture about the dangers and uses of the plant. A Hufflepuff first year was able to answer that the plant hated light and heat, and had five points awarded to their house as well.

After the lecture, Professor Sprout allowed them to get a bit closer to the plant. “I’d like each group of students to collect a cutting of Devil’s Snare. You may work in pairs; One student will use their match to subdue it, and the other will use garden shears to take the cutting.” James and Sirius quickly grouped together, leaving Remus with Peter, who smiled shyly at him.

“Peter, maybe you could hold the match and I’ll take the cutting?” Remus suggested. 

“Okay.” Peter had a bit of trouble striking his match, though - they hadn’t done any real wandwork yet, and still had to use Muggle tools - so Remus lit it for him. Peter timidly held out the match towards the Devil’s Snare, which shrunk away slightly but didn’t seem particularly cowed.

“Um, maybe you could get a bit closer to it?” Remus didn’t fancy having his wrist grabbed by one of the searching vines, and Peter’s distance from the plant didn’t do much for its sour attitude. The boy thrust his hand a bit closer to the Devil’s Snare, but his hand was shaking and moved no further, unwilling to push his luck. Remus sighed, resigning himself to his fate. 

“Shite, James, what did you do that for?” Behind them, Sirius and James were struggling. In fact, their Devil’s Snare was on fire - someone must have dropped their match, and the poor plant lashed about, trying to flee from the flames. Professor Sprout rushed over quickly to the wayward boys and doused the flames with a stream of water from her wand, scolding them soundly and giving them a new match with instructions to ‘be more careful!’ Remus tried to ignore them, cautiously approaching his plant with the shears.

One of the vines reared at Remus, trying to snake around his wrist, and he leapt back, giving a dirty look at James and Sirius, who were now guffawing at his attempts. “S’not like you lot did any better,” he grumbled, circling the small pot in an attempt to find an opening. Finally, he managed to snip off a piece of the vine, which had begun to constrict one of his fingers on the hand he had finally thought to use as bait. 

“Well done, boys!” Sprout congratulated them - they were the first pair to manage to take a cutting. Peter blew a raspberry at James and Sirius, who glared at him. They were each sent to help a group of students who were still struggling. Naturally, Peter hurried over to James and Sirius. He was always dogging them. Remus wandered over to two girls who were having a particularly difficult time with their plant, which was flailing around and slapping the table, and tried not to be caught by one of the vines that whipped about.

-

Remus was poring over one of his textbooks in their dorm room. They had Charms the next day, and he had heard from the Hufflepuff first years that Professor Flitwick actually had let them perform a spell, so he wanted to be prepared. He was eagerly reading up on the intricacies of making heavier and heavier objects float when a pillow smacked into the side of his head.

“What the hell was that for?” Remus grumbled. James shrugged, grinning.

“Trying to get your attention, you swot. We’ve been bothering you for the past ten minutes and you hadn’t looked up from that book once.” Had he really? He’d always been very invested in reading, but he was usually quite jumpy. Maybe he was finally growing out of leaping in the air at every odd noise.

“You’ve got it now.What d’you want?”

“Well,” James’ grin widened, “we live in a bloody massive castle that we haven’t gotten the chance to explore yet. Me, Sirius, and Pete were going to make ourselves at home.”

“Sirius and I,” Remus corrected.

“Sirius and you what?”

“Er, nevermind. It's almost curfew now, though, isn’t it?”

“Curfew, schmurfew,” James rolled his eyes. “Who cares about a little thing like that? It’ll be fun. It's’ fate we’re all together, remember.”

“More like bad karma,” Remus sighed, putting his book down. He wasn’t eager to get in any trouble, but he didn’t want to be left out either. “Let’s go.”

“Brilliant! Alright, men,” James regarded them seriously. “To the streets!”

* * *

The common room was still bustling, as it was only ten to eight, and Remus and Sirius, being the taller of the four, managed to cover their escape by making them appear as if they were a bit older - second years, perhaps. Once they were out of the portrait hole, James took the lead, bringing them to the top of the staircase to Gryffindor tower - as well as going down, the hall branch to their left and right.

Peter wrung his hands. “Which way do we go?”

“Probably should stay near the tower. Just in case we need to make a speedy escape.” Remus warned.

“That’s no fun,” James said, pouting. “We’re  _ exploring, _ remember? We’ve already seen everything up here.”

“Yeah, but if we get caught, we’ll lose house points. And get detention.”

“You really care about a silly little thing like that?” Sirius scoffed. Remus scowled at him but said nothing. “That settles it, then. Down the stairs!” Their journey down was marked by Peter getting his foot caught in one of the trick steps, James nearly tumbling down the stairs himself when he and Remus hauled the poor boy out. After that Remus hung back, figuring he’d rather let someone else play victim to the stairs.

At the bottom of the flight, James directed them towards the portrait of a large green dragon. “Haven’t been down here yet, I don’t think. Let’s take a look!” Remus paused to look at the painting, its subject blowing smoke lazily. There weren’t any other portraits in the hallway. 

Sirius must have noticed this too, because he called James and Peter back over. “Bit odd that this is the only painting here, don’t you think?” he asked.

“You don’t think there’s something behind it, do you?”

“I’m not saying there’s  _ not _ something behind it…”

Peter finally caught on. “A secret passage?” he squeaked. Remus nodded slowly. There was probably something hidden behind it, just like how the Gryffindor common room was behind the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“There might be a password,” Sirius pondered out loud. “Like for Gryffindor Tower. Not sure what it could be, though.” He and James took turns trying to jostle the dragon, prompting it to move.

“Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus,” Remus suggested, and sure enough, the painting swung open by its hinges.

“How’d you know that?” James exclaimed.

“It's the school motto. Never tickle a sleeping dragon. Figured it would be worth a try.”

“Excellent! Let’s take a peek, then.” Without any caution, James sauntered through the hidden corridor. Unfortunately for him, it was only a few feet long, and ended in a dead end.

“What the hell?” Sirius pouted, knocking his knuckles against a few bricks, as if that would do any good. “Doesn’t sound like it's’ hollow, either.”

“Bloody bust,” James mumbled, dejected. The boys filed out of the small hallway and Remus shut the painting behind him. When he turned around, the other three boys were frozen. In front of them was a ragged tortoiseshell cat with hideous patchy fur and round amber eyes. Behind it, down the corridor, they heard a voice.

“What do we have here, then?” it called gleefully. It belonged to a tall man, slightly hunched, with straight brown curtain-like hair. “First years out of bed?”

“Shite,” James breathed. “Filch. Run.” It didn’t take any further prompting - they immediately dashed off the way they had come, hearts racing. James and Sirius sprinted ahead, Remus loping behind them. Little Peter puffed a bit further back, and Remus grabbed his arm, urging him on. 

“Come on! We’ve got to get out of here!”

“I’m coming,” the boy gasped. “I’m coming!” They stumbled up the stairs, Remus practically jerking Peter’s arm off when he fell through the trick step again. With the hunched man on their heels, they finally made it to Gryffindor Tower, huffing as they gave the password to the Fat Lady.

“Swedish Short-Snout!” James called, out of breath. The portrait sternly warned them about breaking curfew, but swung open nonetheless, and the boys hurried inside just as the man turned the corner after them. They wasted no time in dashing to their dormitories, falling into their beds.

“I’d say that was a success,” Sirius remarked. “Secret passage and all. Could be useful.”

“Success? All we found was a dead end, and we nearly got caught?” Peter said.

“The operative word being nearly, Petey-boy. That’s half the fun, anyways.” James panted. “Brilliant first outing, speaks wonders for our next one.”

“Next one? Good Godric!”


	4. September 1971

They had double potions first thing after breakfast the next morning, paired with the Slytherins. He realized that the Snape boy would be there - Remus had forgotten about his existence. Evans would be pleased, then. Remus sat next to Peter again at breakfast, and was surprised when a raggedy barn owl dropped a letter for him. He opened it quickly, careful to keep it away from the other boys - thankfully, they were all distracted by what James’ parents had sent. He had an overflowing tin of biscuits that he passed around, occasionally giving a nibble to the snowy owl perched comfortably on his shoulder.

__ _ Dear Remus,  _ the letter read,

_ I hope you are having a lovely time at Hogwarts, and making lots of friends! Try not to take what your father says to heart. The house feels empty without you, but we’re managing. It won’t be long until Christmas.  _ Ugh, Christmas. His mother had kept some of her muggle traditions, and instead of a merry time full of presents, the entire holiday was spent celebrating some Jesus fellow. Neither he nor his father were thrilled by this turn of events.  _ Please study hard, and write back soon. _ Despite his grievances with her Christmas celebrations, Remus missed his mum, and he made a mental note to write back to her soon.

It turned out Remus would not be as chuffed about potions as Evans. As soon as he entered the classroom, located in the dungeons, he was nearly bowled over by the pungent odors of the potions ingredients. Worst of all, lacing the air was the stench of aconite.  _ Wolfsbane, _ he thought bitterly, wiping tears from his irritated eyes. He hadn’t exactly been excited for potions - his mother had invited him to bake with her a few times, and everything he touched just ended up tasting strange, even though he followed the instructions. His last bit of hope for the class had been dashed now, he knew he’d never be able to focus with the lingering smells drifting through the room.

Remus pulled up a chair by the bench James, Sirius and Peter were sitting at, quietly joining their conversation when he had a chance, though it was difficult - all of their words blurred together, and he couldn’t quite remember what any one boy had said. Things were made even worse by their Potions Professor, Slughorn - a broad man with a bushy mustache that danced like a fuzzy caterpillar on his lip when he talked. “Three to a table please - you lot, break up please,” he instructed. He vanished their belongings with his wand, and they appeared at different tables - Peter ended up with MacDonald and Craft, while James and Sirius were stuck with a Slytherin boy. Remus’ things appeared at the table Evans and Snape shared.

“Remus!” Lily exclaimed. “Thank god, I thought I would end up with that Potter git when Slughorn paired you off.” Her companion was nowhere near as happy to see Remus, glaring at him through black bangs. Remus shuffled around in his bag for a moment, opening his battered textbook to the page Professor Slughorn had written on a large chalkboard at the front of the room - near the beginning of the book, it was a section on the Cure for Boils potion.

Slughorn gave a short lecture on the importance of precision in brewing potions, and what they should expect from the class in general. He also spent a rather long time having each student introduce themselves, paying special attention to some - notably Sirius Black, who was from a very affluent family. Finally, he left his soap box, and they had a good ninety minutes to brew the potion.

Rather, Snape brewed the potion, with Lily’s assistance, and Remus just tried not to knock anything over. Snape didn’t say a word to Remus, except to curtly instruct him to get out of the way when his arm threatened to knock over a phial of Flobberworm mucus. He and Lily talked quietly, with the latter occasionally smiling at him and asking him to please pass the porcupine quills. His luck wasn’t to last, though, for when he handed some ginger root off to Lily across the table to mince he somehow managed to drop the entire chunk into their cauldron, which immediately turned a poisonous green, instead of the vibrant turquoise it should have been.

“You bloody idiot!” Snape cried. “Look what you did! Lily, see if you can fish it out.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” Remus stammered.

“Sorry isn’t going to do a lot of good now,” Snape hissed. “This is  _ your fault _ .”

“S’not Remus’ fault if you dripped grease from those manky locks of yours into the cauldron, Snivellus,'' James called, two tables over. He exchanged a wicked glance with Sirius. “It’s no surprise, really, seeing as you’ve yet to discover how to use a shampoo bottle.”

“Bugger off, you gormless git,” Snape muttered. He stirred their cauldron again, which was starting to look more blue than green, thankfully. “I think I fixed it. No thanks to you.” Remus nodded, his cheeks red, and made a point to keep away from the cauldron and let Lily and Snape do their work. The potion was turning a bright orange right on cue when it exploded in a fountain of sticky goo, entirely covering Evans and Snape and spattering the front of Remus’ robes. James and Sirius were laughing uncontrollably until their Slytherin partner whacked James in the back of the head with a book.

Slughorn rushed over from where he had been helping the hapless Peter, scolding Remus, Snape and Lily for their mishap. “Seems like you added the second batch of porcupine quills too soon,” he tutted.

“No we didn’t,” Lily cried, “Look!” At the bottom of their cauldron there were the remains of a red and yellow striped firecracker. By this point, James and Sirius were hardly breathing, bellowing laughter that filled the room. Slughorn paused for a moment to consider the turn of events.

“Boys,” he said, turning slowly to the pair of Gryffindors, “did you do this?”

“No,” James and Sirius said, at the same time their Slytherin partner muttered “Yes.”

“This is not acceptable behavior,” he scolded. “Ten points from Gryffindor and a detention each with me tomorrow night. You should be ashamed of yourselves, you boys have such potential! I’ll be owling your parents.” James didn’t look ashamed at all, still smirking at Slughorn, but Sirius went a bit pale and sat up rigidly. Slughorn excused the victims of the firecracker to go clean themselves up, assigning them 10 inches of parchment on how the potion was brewed so they wouldn’t have to make it again, along with the 12 inches the rest of the class received on the history and uses of the brew.

James and Sirius easily caught up with Remus when the class ended, soon followed by Peter, who looked equally as grubby as Remus felt from the fountain of goop - they were all coated in a thin layer of grime from the Potions lesson. “Sorry, mate,” James said, “but we had to get that Snivellus bloke! Too easy.” He patted Remus on the back, hard.

“Couldn’t you have...I dunno, signalled me or something?” Remus asked, exasperated. “I wasn’t fancying a dip in potion today, and I only have one change of robes left.”

“Nah, then he might have caught on!” James exclaimed. Sirius was silent, but nodded, sheepish. “We got that ginger swot as well. Things are off to a great start, lads.”

* * *

Their next class was charms, taught by the miniature Professor Flitwick, who didn’t stand taller than any of his students. Remus was easily a head above him, with Sirius not far behind. The Professor was unbothered by this, standing atop a small stack of books to teach the class. He gave a short introduction to what charms were and their uses, as well as the first charm they’d be learning - the Levitating Charm. “The incantation,” he instructed, “is Wingardium Leviosa.” A piece of chalk wrote the word out on the board behind him, underlining the points of emphasis - the ‘ar’ in the first phrase and the ‘o’ in the second. He demonstrated first by levitating a small feather, then the desk of one of the students in the first row.

A feather appeared at each desk - Remus’ was white and downy, with a few tan speckles on one side near the base. He took a deep breath. This was it; his first ever spell. He found he needed a moment to clear his head before trying. “ _ Wingardium Leviosa! _ ” He moved his wand in a sort of curvy check mark, just as Flitwick had, but his feather only stirred a little. He looked around the room - no one else was having much luck either, though he noted Lily and Sirius’ feathers were moving slightly as well.

He tried again, this time putting much more emphasis on the ‘o’ in ‘Leviosa’ and trying to make his wand movement more fluid. He was rewarded by his feather jumping a little - progress! By the end of the class, his feather had hovered in the air for a moment, and Lily Evans had even managed to get the attention of Professor Flitwick when her feather hung in the air for nearly thirty seconds before the young girl began to break a sweat and let it drop. Flitwick dismissed the class without any written homework, only the instructions to continue practicing the spell.

Charms was exhausting, though Remus still felt a rush of adrenaline from casting his first ever spell, and thankfully it was followed by free time for the rest of the night - they would have to wake up at around eleven-thirty for Astronomy, and were encouraged to spend time after dinner catching up on sleep. Remus was much too excited to sleep, though, and instead played a few games of Exploding Snap with his roommates for a few hours. Their fun was ended when Sirius’ cards let loose a particularly spectacular bang, nearly singing off their eyebrows, and they were scolded by a few NEWT students who were studying and were herded to their dorm room to wait until Astronomy.

* * *

Their Astronomy class, spent mainly on learning the names of some of the brighter stars with a stout man named Professor Poliwag, who lectured them endlessly on correctly setting up their telescopes. The class hadn’t let out until nearly two in the morning, and Remus slept through breakfast despite the determined proddings of Peter. The full moon was only in two days, and he really ought to have napped yesterday evening - he needed all of the help he could get. Thankfully, whoever made their schedules had the foresight to give them the entire morning free, and Remus stirred just before lunch, much to the joy of Peter (who claimed he had nearly starved to death). Remus, too, was absolutely ravenous.

James was just starting to wake up as well, though he hadn’t yet tumbled out of bed, and Sirius was still fast asleep, so Remus took the opportunity to sneak into their shared bathroom for a quick shower. He hadn’t had a chance for a good wash yet, not able to find a moment of true privacy where the other boys might not pry.

Remus stretched his arms in the air, joints popping, and slowly pulled off his pyjama shirt, examining himself in the mirror. There was a good reason he never -  _ never _ \- undressed in front of the other boys. His entire body was roped with scars, from his ankles and wrists to his neck. Thankfully, the wolf hadn’t mauled his face yet, and hopefully it never would. His chest was criss-crossed with silver lines that ran haphazardly along his sternum, and his wrists had several mean-looking bite marks. On some of the newer ones, you could even make out the individual teeth marks.

And of course, there was his first scar. It was a jagged bite mark that nearly engulfed the left side of his body. Two vicious canine teeth had punctured the skin just by the beginning of his right collarbone, and their bottom pair had sunk just below the small of his back. Between the pairs were countless dots and rips made by the other teeth in the mouth of the great beast that had savaged him.

He wasn’t any different now. He was a beast too.

* * *

Perhaps it had not been wise to skip breakfast. Sirius was greeted by the same foul screech owl from two days ago, with another scarlet letter in its talons. It pecked Sirius’ ear after it delivered the letter and, seeming satisfied, took flight. The letter was smoking, the gold wax beginning to melt from the heat inside. Sirius gingerly took it in one hand, ripping it open with the other, and the letter screamed.

It ranted about the aristocratic boy; how he brought shame to the family name, how he was undisciplined and roguish, how he was a failure and an insult to everything the Black name represented. Sirius didn’t even flinch when the shouting began. He just stared at nothing in particular, as if he was pretending not to exist. Finally, after one last jibe, the letter burst into a puff of smoke. “Dear old mum,” Sirius said fondly. “Well, what are you lot looking at? Let’s eat!”

Defense Against the Dark Arts was after lunch, and it was taught by a willowy ex-auror named Felicia Lavaret. Professor Lavaret was between jobs after her retirement from the Ministry, and while she would have liked to stay longer than a year, she’d had some promising job opportunities on the continent. Their first lesson was focused on theory, and next week they would learn about imps. The creatures were less than a foot tall, and Remus wondered why they were actually considered ‘dark,’ but he kept his mouth shut.

Their last class of the week was the one James and Sirius were most excited about - flying. Remus had never flown a broom before, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to change that, but James and Sirius chattered on and on about broomsticks this, Quidditch that. Remus had no interest in Quidditch, but Peter listened to their conversation and occasionally thrust himself in (usually to agree with James, who was the ‘expert’ on the subject). Thankfully, though the sky was slightly overcast, the rain held off. 

Flying class was taught by a greying woman with piercing eyes named Madame Hooch. As the students filed in, she instructed them to each stand to the left of a broom. Remus was near the end of the line, beside Sirius. “Everyone settled?” she queried. When there were no responses, “Now, everyone. Hold your right hand out - above your broom - and say ‘Up!’ Once everyone has summoned their broom, we’ll discuss posture.”

“Up,” Remus mumbled. His broom, which was missing several bristles and had a large chunk taken out of its handle, jerked a little. “Up. Up!” The broom gave a feeble attempt to fly to his hand, and Remus picked it up when it seemed like Madame Hooch wasn’t looking. James’s broom, of course, had come to him the first time he tried. So had Sirius’. Even Peter’s had come shakily to his hand after a few attempts.

“Mount your brooms now, please; push off from your left foot and swing your right leg over. Once you’ve mounted, hold the handle, shoulders back and right hand in front of the left.” Hooch demonstrated by slightly correcting James’ position, who was already sitting on his broom, and complimented him on his posture. Remus grit his teeth and swung his leg over the broom; his knee creaked a bit in complaint but at least he was on. Despite hardly even floating, Remus was hunched over his broomstick, and Madame Hooch gently pushed his shoulder back and tilted his chin up. “There! Perfect.”

“In order to lift off, kick off from the ground with your heels. No funny business, now,” she warned, “even if you already know how to fly. Just hover in the air for a bit, then lean forward to come back down.” Remus’ stomach dropped’ he’d hoped they wouldn’t actually leave the ground that day, but it wasn’t meant to be. Feeling queasy, and hunching over again, he kicked the ground and his broom gave a doddering jolt as it carried him a few feet up.

James didn’t appear to be taking Hooch’s ‘no nonsense’ policy very seriously, because as soon as he was off the ground, he tried to take the broom as high as he could without  _ technically _ going anywhere until Hooch yelled at him and he landed, giving a smug look to Sirius. “Bet I can get higher than you can,” Sirius taunted.

“I’ll take that bet,” James said. “Look - she’s pestering that MacDonald girl.” Remus could only watch while James kicked off again, followed by Sirius, ascending rapidly. They reached the second story of the castle when Madame Hooch thought to look up.

“Boys! Get down, now!” she shouted. “Or you’ll get more than points taken off.” Sirius looked at James, who was showing no signs of stopping. The boy closed his eyes and continued upward, trying to outstrip the darker boy and beginning to draw ahead. “BOYS! NOW!” Hooch bellowed, but the pair ignored her; they were nearing the fourth story now. With an exasperated sigh, Hooch waved her wand and the brooms plummeted to the ground, stopping a few feet short and bucking their riders off. “Ten points each from Gryffindor for insolence, and detention for both of you.” James, having recovered from his unplanned dismount, bowed to Hooch. 

“My pleasure, Madam.” Remus took this as an opportunity to land his own broom, breathing a deep sigh of relief when he finally reached the ground. Peter, not one to be left out, had begun ascending as well, but Hooch brought his broom down without a second thought and he dismounted with a sour look towards the instructor. Hooch dismissed the class and the first years headed back towards the castle, excited for the weekend. Remus couldn’t bring himself to be excited. By the end of the short reprieve, while his mates slept soundly, he would be a slathering animal locked away from everyone else.


	5. Full Moon

For Remus, Saturday was spent reading ahead for class; for James, Sirius, and Peter, it was spent in detention for their antics flying brooms. “Two detentions in two days!” James grumbled. ‘It’s not right.”

“Don’t play the victim, James, you know full well while you have it,” Remus reprimanded. “Pulling that stunt in front of Hooch? You’re barmy, the lot of you.”

“Swot.”

“Nutter.”

“Prat,” Sirius chimed in. “Berk, Ninny, Arse-”

Remus swatted them away with his Charms textbook. “You ought to get a move on before you’re late. I think James might simply die if he got three detentions in three days.” It didn’t take much more convincing than that for the trio to shuffle out, dejected, leaving Remus in peace for the afternoon.

He settled himself in the common room; it was mercifully quiet, especially compared to the endless nagging of his dorm mates. In an hour he’d already made a large dent in their Charms textbook, having read through the entirety of the chapter on Wingardium Leviosa and nearly finished the section on the Wand-Lighting Charm as well. 

He was starting to get a bit restless, so he shut his book and pulled out his wand and a small button to practice levitation some more. He would almost definitely be indisposed for a few days and didn’t want to be left behind when he finally returned. After a half hour of focus, trying to ignore a few students who had begun a lively game of gobstones in one corner of the common room, he finally managed to make the button float on its own; it hovered for a full minute before dropping back onto the table.

“That was brilliant, Remus!” a voice behind him exclaimed. “I still haven’t managed to make it levitate for that long, and I’ve been practicing.” It was Lily, alone for once.

“Oh - er, thanks. I’ve been practicing too. Takes stamina, I guess, like anything.”

“Yeah, I suppose it does.” She paused for a moment. “Actually, I’ve been reading a bit ahead, I was going to start working on the Lumos spell...I was wondering if you might like to try with me?” Remus was caught off guard. After the disaster that was their first Potions class, he didn’t think the ginger would ever choose to speak to him again. Well, maybe not ever again, but for a long while at least. He didn’t really want to spend time with anyone, but he supposed he ought to mend their relations while he still could.

“Sure. It seems pretty simple, kind of like a lightbulb.” He frowned. “Guess not, though. Lightbulbs use electricity; not sure what wands use.”

“Our energy, I think. Remember the formula from Transfiguration? That’s probably why it was hard getting anything to levitate for very long.” Remus nodded - it made sense. It fit with his stamina theory, too. They would have to work their way up to more complicated and longer spells, and would exhaust themselves quickly attempting something they weren’t ready for. That made him wonder how the full moon might affect him - sometimes, he was incredibly energized before his awful nights. Other times, though, he was completely and utterly exhausted.

“Ok,” he said, opening his text book again. “Says here the incantation is ‘Lumos.’ You just kind of make a swirly sort of shape with your wand, like a ribbon. Want to try first?”

“I think I’d like to see you try,” she said shyly. “It would help seeing someone else do it.” Remus shrugged.

“ _ Lumos! _ ” he said as he flicked his wrist, making a loop with his wand. Sure enough, a tiny pinprick of light was coming from the tip of his wand, making the space around them a bit brighter. As he focused on it more, it grew brighter, illuminating Lily’s face.

“That’s amazing!” Lily exclaimed. “You even did it on your first try!” 

“Um...I mean, the book said it was pretty simple. Just turning one kind of energy into another instead of making something happen with that energy. Stands to reason that it wouldn’t be very difficult.”

“Still! It’s brilliant. I think I’ll try now.” Lily held her wand in front of her, making a smooth loop with her wand. “ _ Lumos! _ ” Light came from the tip of her wand as well, though not as bright as Remus’. “You were right, that wasn’t too hard. Should be useful as well, reading after lights out.” They practiced the spell for a bit longer, and eventually there was enough light coming from their wands to replace a lantern or two, though Remus was beginning to grow tired.

“Look at this! Remus has got a girlfriend!” someone exclaimed. James, Peter and Sirius were back from their detention, knees and hems of their robes damp and slightly soapy.

“I do not, we were just studying together,” Remus scoffed. “By that logic, you and Sirius are both dating Alecto Carrow, you were partners with her in potions.”

“Remus has got a girlfriend,” Peter sang when he stormed up to their dorm. Drained, now, and not in the mood to deal with the boys, he pulled the curtains around his bed and tried to ignore their chanting until they lured him out with a game of Exploding Snap, and tales of how James and Peter had somehow managed to land themselves another detention on their way back to the Gryffindor tower by harassing the caretaker’s ugly cat, Mrs. Norris.

-

Sunday found Remus sleeping nearly until noon, and when he woke up James and Peter had already left for their most recent detention. Sirius was laying on his bed, reading a book about muggle inventions. “‘Lo, Remus.”

“Good morning, Sirius,” he mumbled. Sirius looked up from his book.

“All right, mate?” he asked.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Sure? You look a bit pale.” Remus looked away, trying to think of an explanation.

“Er...I got a letter from my dad while you were all off in detention, mum’s not doing well again and I’m going home tonight to see her,” he said. “Just a bit worried, that’s all.” Sirius nodded knowingly and returned to his book.

“Hope she’s all right,” he offered. “James and I will take notes.”

“I didn’t know you even took notes!”

“It’s a little known secret, but we are, in fact, literate.”

James and Peter returned about an hour later, and Remus told them that he was going home to see his sick mum. Thankfully, they didn’t ask many questions, even when Remus barely touched his dinner that night - everything tasted ashen in his mouth, though he was starving. He managed to slip away to find the hospital wing when no one was looking, and actually found his way for once - the maps the school had offered were totally inaccurate. He crept in carefully, trying to make sure he was alone. He was greeted by Professor McGonagall and a shorter, kindly looking woman standing beside her. “Lupin, you’re here. Good. This is Madame Pomfrey,” she indicated the other woman.

“Hello, Remus,” she greeted him. “I’ll be assisting you tomorrow morning after your transformation.”

“This way, please,” McGonagall said. She led them out of the castle and towards the Whomping Willow, which flailed its limbs dangerously at their approach. The tree was quite tall, with long, knobbly limbs that had finger-like twigs reaching out towards the intruders. To his shock, McGonagall turned into a cat right before his eyes, dashing to the trunk of the tree and pressing one tabby paw on a large, gnarled knot. She changed back into a human and ushered Remus and Madame Pomfrey inside a tunnel that was hidden between the roots of the tree. “This tunnel leads to a house in Hogsmeade that is enchanted to keep you secure. Poppy will bring you here in the evenings before sunset, and return in the morning to fetch you..”

“Ok,” Remus nodded. “What if I miss class?”

McGonagall regarded him strangely. “You’ll be allowed to make up any work you miss, of course, and there will be no penalty for lateness, within reason.” They walked on in silence for a bit. The tunnel was long and wound slightly. The walls were made of dirt, and roots could be seen poking out of the soil here and there. Remus had to watch his step to make sure there weren’t any particularly large roots that stuck up out of the ground. “We’re here,” McGonagall said.

“Thank you. I’ll be fine on my own.” He didn’t entirely trust the witch, though he had no reason not to, and he didn’t like people seeing him before the transformation. She gave a curt nod and let him exit the tunnel, shutting the door behind him. Inside was a two story wooden house, complete with a fireplace and a tall wardrobe. The windows were boarded shut and there was a small bed on the second floor. Despite being a bit worn, it was clean - there was no dust or spiderwebs hidden in the corners.  _ Not for long, _ Remus noted grimly. He stripped his clothes and wand and hid them in the wardrobe, closing it firmly and bolting it shut. It wouldn’t do to have the wolf eat his clothes, and he shuddered to think about it snapping his wand in half with its teeth. 

Then he felt the pull of the moon, more firm than it had been throughout the day. It stretched his bones, cracking some and merging others. The tips of his fingers became sharp black claws, his chest and shoulders shrunk inward while his spine lengthened beyond where it should. There was strain of his eyes being pushed apart and the soft cartilage of his nose stretching and tearing until it formed a fleshy snout. Pinpricks of hair sprouted over his entire body. Muscles tore and knit themselves together again; tendons creaked and snapped, holding new bones together. And all the while, he screamed, until there was a terrible warping of his vocal chords broadening, and the helpless screams of a young boy morphed into the howl of a wolf.

* * *

Remus woke to beams of sunlight beginning to sneak through gaps in the boarded windows. The first thing he noticed was that he was parched; he must have howled incessantly last night. He hoped no one had heard - Headmaster Dumbledore had probably put some sort of wards on the house to prevent him from disturbing anyone. The next thing he noticed was that he really didn’t feel all that terrible. He guessed that the wolf had spent more time roving around its’ new confines than shredding itself, though that was sure to change. The third thing he noticed was that his arm had nearly been ripped out of its socket, and he took back his initial observation that he didn’t feel dreadful.

He catalogued his hurts - few scratches and gashes, like he had predicted, but the wolf must have spent its time trying to break through the walls of the house instead, which explained quite a bit. Every time he breathed he felt a sharp pain in his chest, and his head was swimming; the few cuts he did receive had splinters in them.

“Remus, are you there?” a soft voice called. Madame Pomfrey. Remus remembered that he was starkers and moved to cover himself with the arm he could still move. “Oh, you poor dear,” she clucked. “I thought it might be bad, but this was a bit more than I was expecting.” Remus whined a little, animalistic, and she shushed him. “It’s all right, nothing I can’t handle,” she said briskly. The matron was unflappable despite the blood and urine spattered all over the house, and the ruined furniture that had inhabited it only the night before. “We’ll just cover you up a bit and patch you up in the hospital wing.”

Once Remus had recovered his voice slightly, he assured the matron he could walk, but she insisted on bringing him back to the castle on some sort of invisible stretcher, with his robes bundled on top of him. He let himself close his eyes and tried to think about anything but where he was right now. _Poor woman._ _Shouldn’t have to deal with this. No one should._

The nurse was clearly experienced, and she patched Remus up with a sort of careful efficiency, not even flinching as he cried out when she popped his shoulder back where it belonged. Her wand slowly knit together his flesh again, although some wounds didn’t close fully and every one left a mark of some kind. She left him in a private ward, alone except for an inconspicuous glass of water, and Remus distracted himself from everything he was likely missing by thinking about one of the fantasy books he’d been reading near the end of the summer.

* * *

“Madame Pomfrey, are you  _ sure  _ I can’t leave yet?” Remus complained Wednesday afternoon. The witch had insisted on keeping him last night even though he could mostly move his arm again, insisting that he need rest, but Remus was about to burst at the seams. Pomfrey gave him a calculating look.

“I suppose you might as well,” she conceded. “Straight to your dormitory, though. Classes are almost over and I don’t want you straining yourself.” Remus nearly jumped out of bed before he was reminded he had broken several ribs the last full moon and was brought short with a pained gasp. The nurse glared at him.

“I’m fine,” he assured her, “just did something a bit stupid. Please, don’t worry, everything is fine.” Pomfrey nodded, handing him his school robes so that he could change and giving him stern instructions to eat well (as if he hadn’t scarfed down every morsel of food she had given him!) and not to run about.

The walk to the Gryffindor Tower was long and grueling, despite his earlier protestations - every step up jostled his shoulder and left him gasping for breath. After what felt like ages, he finally stumbled into his dormitory, and was greeted by gleeful cries of “Remus!”

“You were gone forever!” James complained. “Is your mum all right?”

“Are you alright?” Sirius asked. “You look pretty knackered.”

“I’m fine, just didn’t sleep much. She was quite ill.”

“If you say so,” Sirius said. “You missed a brilliant Charms lesson, though. James and I nearly levitated Flitwick!”


	6. Defense

It was just Remus’ luck that the curriculum included werewolves nearly at the beginning of term. The October full moon was quickly approaching as well, making him more restless than ever. Even worse, the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years had the class together.The only condolence was that since he had only disappeared once so far, it was unlikely that anyone might become suspicious of him.

Professor Lavaret began the lesson with a lecture on the differences between werewolves and true wolves. “There are five main differences,” she said. “Can anyone tell me what they are?” A few students raised their hands. “Ms. MacDonald?”

“They have a tufted tail, don’t they? And a shorter, broader snout.” Remus hadn’t known that. It wasn’t like he looked in a mirror while he was a wolf, and he didn’t make a point of studying the subject either.

“Very good, Ms. MacDonald. Mr. Craft?”

“Yellow eyes with large pupils, larger front paws, and aggression,” the boy rattled off. Remus was more than familiar with the last difference. His mind was brought to the last full moon - the wolf was anything but peaceful, that was for sure. 

“There’s one last thing,” Professor Lavaret said conspiratorially. “How can you know that you are being faced with a werewolf and not a true wolf?” Her pupils were silent for a moment.

“There are no wolves in England!” James shouted, triumphant. “They went extinct centuries ago.”

“Correct, Mr. Potter, five points to Gryffindor. While you are in the United Kingdom, any wolf you face will be a werewolf - true wolves are no longer native to the area.” Lavaret continued her lecture, focusing on the treatment of werewolf bites in order to prevent fatalities. A mixture of silver and dittany was used to close the wound - his parents kept some around for his worse bites when he was at home. A broad Slytherin with a wide forehead raised his hand. “Yes, Mr. Mulciber?” 

“How can you tell a werewolf from a normal person?” he asked slowly. Lavaret frowned.

“You can’t. Not that there would be any need to.” Remus tried to pretend he didn’t exist.  _ Why wouldn’t you want to know you were sharing a classroom with something so horrible, the Ministry didn’t even classify it as human? _

“But they’re beasts!” Mulciber gasped, as if echoing Remus’ thoughts. “What if it ate you?”

“Werewolves are entirely harmless twenty-seven days out of twenty-eight, Mr. Mulciber, and even on that twenty-eight any responsible werewolf will ensure the safety of others. Though you are right, the Ministry does categorize them as Beasts, and not Beings.”

“You can’t be sure though!” another boy exclaimed - Amycus Carrow, a Slytherin. “They’re not human, they don’t belong with us anyways.” Remus hadn’t known it was possible to sink any lower in his chair than he already had.  _ He’s right, you know. This is why you can’t let any of them figure it out. _

“Yeah,” the boy’s twin, Alecto, chimed in. “They’re filthy. Who wants to be around a half-breed that might turn around and eat them?”  _ Nobody. _

“Not true!” Lily Evans butted in. “You heard Professor Lavaret, they’re normal people most of the time.”

“What would a mudblood like you know, anyways?” Amycus sneered. Lily’s friend Dorcas gasped.

“Ten points from Slytherin, Mr. Carrow, I do not tolerate language like that in this classroom,” Lavaret scolded. “The topic has gotten out of hand. I can firmly say there is no need to identify a werewolf when it is in human form, and even if there were, it isn’t possible.”  _ Disappearing every full moon, reclusiveness, countless scars… _ Remus listed in his head. Lavaret continued her lecture on the topic for the last few minutes of class, pointedly ignoring any hands raised, Slytherin or otherwise.

Remus had tried to make a quick exit, but found himself flanked by James, Peter, and the omnipresent Sirius regardless. “I can’t believe them!” James said, breathless. “Slytherin gits!”

“Well...they’re not all wrong,” Sirius drawled carefully. “Werewolves  _ are  _ dangerous. They might be harmless most of the time, but I wouldn’t want one in my sitting room.”  _ If only you knew. _

“Sirius! That’s not fair!” James cried. “You wouldn’t say that about...say, a muggleborn, would you?”

“Of course not! But I wouldn’t want a vampire in my sitting room either, yeah?”  _ At least vampires are beings, though. _

“Mulciber said there are werewolves in the Forbidden Forest,” Peter squeaked piteously. “Someone who wanders in might...m-might...might get eaten!” The young boy looked worse for wear, and had clearly put a lot of thought into the matter.

“I, for one, would  _ gladly _ have dinner with a werewolf,” James announced. “They’re not any different than us. Remus agrees with me, right, Remus?”  _ No you wouldn't, _ his brain said.

“Er...yeah...gotta go, bathroom,” he managed to get out. His head was buzzing, and the floor was swaying a bit beneath him. When he finally made it to the toilet, he retched, bile spewing from the back of his throat.  _ It’s better to know now, _ he told himself miserably.


	7. Bad Dreams

There was a wolf inside of a small shack near the edge of Hogsmeade village. It was a massive beast, with gleaming yellow eyes and a thick grey coat. It gnashed its teeth as it circled the shack, blood dripping from a few nasty cuts on its belly. Then, suddenly, it threw itself at one of the walls, which gave way with a heavy crash to the wolf’s broad shoulder.

Alert now, the animal’s nose worked furiously, finally deciding on the scent of three young children that were playing on the castle grounds late at night. It slowly approached its prey, ears plastered flat against its skull and tufted tail hung low to the ground. The highest point of its body was its haunches, barely a foot off the ground, as it slunk between tall, twisted trees.

The young children weren’t aware of their beastly shadow - they laughed and giggled. A tall, pale one with long hair was tapped roughly on the shoulder by a shorter, darker one with round glasses. The first dashed off towards the second, followed by a third, smaller child with light hair, much slower than the others.

He never got the chance to catch up. The wolf leaped from the undergrowth, clamping its jaws against the boy’s jugular until he gasped, and blood sputtered from his ravaged throat. The wolf threw him away and bound towards the next boy, the darker one. It eviscerated him, greedily pulling his intestines from his abdomen and lapping at his hot, red blood. The boy’s eyes were glassy, and the wolf remembered the third boy when he gave an unholy screech.

The wolf tackled the last boy standing, head-on, the beastly maw swallowing the boy’s skull whole. It feasted, dancing between the three corpses, but suddenly it couldn’t breathe, it was tangled in vines that hadn’t been there before, it-

“Remus! Merlin, Remus, are you alright?” It was Sirius, sitting at the foot of his bed. The other boys must have been in his bed.

“I’m...fine,” Remus croaked. He was drenched in sweat, nearly strangling himself in his sheets. “Just a dream.”

“Pretty violent dream, then,” Sirius remarked.

“Look, I’m sorry for waking you, but I’m fine now, see? All in one piece.” Sirius was too, thankfully, despite the horrible vision of the boy’s decapitated body. 

“There’s no need to apologize. I get it,” he said.  _ You wouldn’t be nearly so understanding if you knew. _

“Thanks. I’m - just going to wash up a little. See you in the morning.”

“Yeah. See you.”

* * *

Monday morning saw Remus paler and more drawn than he had ever remembered being - that morning in the bathroom he had rubbed incessantly at the dark circles under his eyes, but they wouldn’t go away. He was hungry, but everything he ate reminded him of the sickly-sweet iron taste of blood and made him retch. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t sit still.

“Morning, Remus!” James greeted him cheerfully over breakfast. “Feeling alright?”

“Yeah, fine. Didn’t sleep well last night.” At least Sirius would be able to confirm that for him.

“Woke me up screaming in the middle of the night,” Sirius added. He really didn’t need to add that little detail, but what was done was done.

“Least you didn’t piss your pants,” Peter remarked. “That used to happen to me. Embarrassing, really.”

“And it isn’t embarrassing to mention that now?” Sirius gaped. “Ickle Petey-kins wees when he’s in bed?” Peter’s hand flew over his mouth, but it was too late, the damage was done.

“Leave him be,” Remus muttered. “Sure you pissed your pants when you were a babe too.”

“He did,” another voice cooly confirmed. Remus looked up - he hadn’t even noticed anyone else was there. It was a tall Slytherin girl with two shining badges on her lapel with a refined face that looked very similar to Sirius’.

“Andy!” Sirius gasped, a mix between anger and joy. “What did you say that for?”

‘It’s Andromeda, Sirius, drop the stupid nickname,” the girl scolded. “Anyways, I thought I’d just level the playing field a bit.”

James wasn’t so easily cowed. “Who are you?”

“That’s my cousin Andy,” Sirius grinned. “I haven’t seen you since summer!”

“Good thing, too - mum and dad were nearly as upset by your sorting as Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga,” Andromeda said. “I’m not just here for a social visit, though - mum sent me a letter saying I should keep an eye on you. Consider yourself watched,” she said, half-joking. “And please say hello to Cissy! She misses you.”

“She can’t have time to miss me when she’s so busy snogging that Malfoy bloke,” Sirius scoffed. Andromeda rubbed her fist in her cousin’s hair and wandered off again.

“I thought you hated your family?” James asked.

“Not Andy, she’s not like the rest of them,” Sirius said. “She’s alright. Still a Slytherin, though.” James made an ugly face. “Better than Cissy and Bella, at any rate. Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus too. The only one I like better is Regulus.”

“Makes sense,” Peter piped in again, “I like my sister best of all my family too.” Sirius nodded wisely. Remus imagined having siblings - it would be fun to have a little him running around. Then he thought about the full moons, and the idea no longer seemed so pleasant.

* * *

Despite being early October, the Herbology Greenhouse was boiling. Sweat dripped from Remus’ forehead only minutes into Professor Sprout’s lecture on Puffapods, and even though he had a sheet of parchment in front of him he couldn’t seem to make words form on the page. There were a few incoherent thoughts noting the unique color of the flower, but nothing beyond that. He twiddled his quill between his thumb and forefinger, reaching to dip it in his inkwell and remembering he had just done that a moment ago.

Before Remus could really make sense of the lecture Professor Sprout made pots of Puffapods appear on the tables they were grouped around, and the young witch gave them a few instructions on how to remove the pods inside of the vibrant pink buds -  _ without, _ she emphasized, causing the fragile seeds to explode in a noxious cloud of spores.

It was just Remus’ luck to end up with his hapless dorm mates - they were smart, even Peter, but they didn’t understand staging. There was a time and place for throwing the orange and yellow seeds at other students, and this wasn’t one of them. 

“Remus! Catch!” James said, tossing the multicolored pod towards him. Remus reached for the object, and as soon as his fingers brushed it, it exploded into fine pollen. “Oops,” James grinned. “Your turn, Peter!” Sprout wasn’t kidding about the dust making people dizzy - the floor had already been a bit wobbly beneath Remus, but now he might as well have been on a boat in the middle of a monsoon. Remus staggered when he stood up from his chair after the class had been dismissed.

Sirius was there to steady him instantly. “Remus, you’re looking awfully peaky,” he said. “Maybe you should go to the hospital wing?”

“Yeah...that might be a good idea,” Remus agreed. Every few moments his vision swam, the edges dark, and he was having a hard time hearing what Sirius was saying. ‘Being ill’ wouldn’t be a terrible excuse for this full moon either.

“I can take you,” Peter said, eager to make himself useful. “I know the way!” Peter, having been the victim of James and Sirius’ practice hexes, had been down to the hospital wing a few times already after some of the less favorable spells had gone south.

“I’m fine, I can make it myself,” Remus snapped. He pushed Sirius away and moved towards the door. Then he was on his hands and knees. That was strange - hadn’t he just been standing?

“No, you’re not,” James said with authority. “We’re going, come on. Pete, can you lead the way? Take his bag too.” With some struggle, Remus was on his feet again, trying not to lean against his friends and failing wretchedly every time his head reeled.

“You’re hot,” Sirius said. “No wonder you woke up last night.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Remus protested weakly, “probably just those stupid Puffapods.” He hoped James felt chagrined by that remark, but somehow he doubted it.

The hospital wing was blessedly close to the greenhouses, and James and Sirius unceremoniously dumped Remus onto a bed. Peter returned from behind a white curtain, followed by the plump and kindly matron. “Puffapods,” James said. “He really reacted badly to them.”

“No worries, boys, that’s why the hospital wing is so close to your Herbology classes,” she soothed. “Run along, now. I’m sure young Mr. Lupin will be fine in a few hours.” Remus cursed inwardly. He hadn’t been to the hospital wing in front of them yet, and as far as they would know there was no reason for Pomfrey to know his name. “Is it only the Puffapods, dear?” she queried once they were alone.

Remus, who was starting to feel slightly more human (though that would change in a few short hours), shook his head. “I always feel off-color before the moon,” he admitted. “Sometimes I’m strung out, other times I feel ill.

Pomfrey shook her head sadly and led him to his little private room. “Poor dear,” she murmured when she thought he couldn’t hear her.

* * *

There truly was a wolf in the little shack near Hogsmeade that night. Unlike in the dream, though, no matter how forcefully it threw itself at the rickety wooden walls, they stood hard and fast, and the wolf was no closer to the sweet smells outside. It gave up eventually, howling mournfully, before scratching at its own flesh in the absence of another’s. All too soon for the wolf, the moon dipped from the sky, and its bones cracked and shrunk until there was a boy laying in its place, huddled around the gashes in his abdomen.  _ Better me than them, _ the boy said inwardly,  _ it’s pretty hard to decapitate yourself.  _ It was like that the boy waited until a portly woman tended to him, bringing him to a small room where he might finally rest.

* * *

Remus was groggy when he woke up, not remembering much. It was all pretty much blank after breakfast Monday morning, but it was slowly starting to come back. Herbology and the Puffapods, snapping at his friends and ending up being trundled to the hospital wing, the early morning spent lying in a fetal position against the world. He sat up slowly, careful not to jostle anything that might still be loose, and sipped at a glass of water from his bedside table.

“Morning, dear,” Pomfrey greeted him. “Feeling better?”

“What day is it?” he asked hoarsely. His muscles were sore, as if he had been bowled over by a rogue hippogriff.

“Don’t fret, it’s only Tuesday afternoon, though I think I’d like to keep you another night,” the matron said conversationally. “The miscreants you hang around have tried to break in to see you twice, you know.”

“No - they can’t!” Remus’ blood went cold. They couldn’t find out, if they  _ knew _ , Peter and Sirius would be afraid of him ( _ Not that they shouldn’t, _ the voice said knowingly) and maybe even turn him in. He doubted James would be so accepting about sharing a dorm with a bloody werewolf either.

“Don’t worry, Remus, they didn’t make it in,” she comforted. “I’ll keep your secret safe.” Remus nodded, still worried that the water he had drunk would end up as bile in his lap if his stomach didn’t stop twisting itself into knots. “Actually,” the matron said, thoughtfully, “Maybe you should go back this afternoon. Give them less time to themselves, lord knows they need a level head among them.” Somehow that didn’t make Remus feel any better.

  


What did lift his spirits slightly was the lively greeting he was given by his dorm mates when he finally walked in late Wednesday evening. “You look like shite!” James said as a way of greeting.

“You’re plug-ugly yourself, wanker,” Remus returned. Despite their warm welcome, Remus found he couldn’t relax around the boys the same way that he had before - every time the muscles in his back started to loosen, an image of one of his friends butchered by him was thrust into his mind’s eye. He did manage to plead an early bed-time, citing that he still felt tired from the effects of the ‘Puffapod Incident,’ as it was now being called. James nodded knowingly and let Remus dress for bed and close the curtains to his mattress.

Despite his exhaustion, Remus lay awake for a long time.  _ You can’t let them know. If they know, they’ll hate you. Not that you don’t deserve it. _

__ _ I know. _

* * *

He did fall asleep eventually. He knew he was dreaming this time; it didn’t happen often, but the lucid feeling he got sometimes in his surreal dreamscape was unmistakable. In the dream he was himself, and he was being chased, though he didn’t know by who. His lungs were burning with each breath, exacerbated by the frosty air, and it felt as if his chest were a hot fireplace. His feet pounded on the frozen earth, reverberating through his skull. He had been running for a very long time.

Then the ground in front of him disappeared, replaced by a gaping chasm and a river of molten silver. He skidded to a stop. Behind him, his pursuers grew ever-closer; he still couldn’t make out their faces. If they caught him, something bad would happen, he knew it, though he wasn’t sure what, and it didn’t make sense seeing as none of it was real.

He was cornered. To his left, a mass of thrashing tree-limbs had grown out of the earth, close enough that the small twigs and branches cut him. To his right, a great stone wall had erupted out of the earth, hewn with strange symbols he couldn’t read. In front of him were his mysterious hunters, and behind him, the river. He could feel its heat against his back, heard the sizzle of melting rock when he scrambled backward and a few small pebbles were loosened. He had to make a decision.

So he jumped.

It was nighttime, and the moon was out; as he fell, he became the wolf, and with it was the agony of the transformation. Then, suddenly, it was day again, and he shrunk back, still tumbling through the air. Day, night, day, night, the celestial bodies spinning in endless circles, faster and faster, until he felt that first touch of the molten hot silver-

He gasped, huffing and puffing for breath. At least in this dream, he hadn’t tried to murder his friends - nor had they murdered him. He tried to slow his breathing, counting with each inhalation, but underneath the blankets it was hot and sticky and he could feel the heat radiating off of his skin as if it were going to set the sheets alight. Soundlessly, he left his bed and padded to the bathroom to splash water on his face.

He realized he wasn’t alone. He could hear the breathing of someone who was awake, though he couldn’t determine who. He passed by Sirius’ bed - it was empty. James’ four-poster had two sets of lungs, exhaling with the soft sleeping of one who was slumbering, the other hushed, as if trying not to wake anyone. He walked further, still quiet as could be, and saw that James was sitting up, Sirius’ curled into his side. Remus wasn’t the only one with nightmares.


	8. Severus Snape

James Potter had an incorrigible penchant for mischief. If he hadn’t met Sirius, rebellious in every sense of the word, on the Hogwarts Express, then they certainly would have been fast friends after mere days of sharing a dorm in the Gryffindor Tower. Peter was quieter than the other two, but worshipped James like he was god’s gift and never questioned a word the boy uttered. This left Remus in an awkward position - he could either ignore them completely and try not to get swept up in their mischief, or lower his head and at least attempt to mitigate the damage they wreaked.

It didn’t help that all of the boys loathed Slytherin. James despised them on principle; he was Gryffindor down to the marrow of his bones. Sirius, who came from a long line of Slytherins, strived to be everything that a Slytherin was not, despite endless strongly-worded letters and howlers from his parents. Peter did whatever James did, and if James hated Slytherins, Peter would too. Even Remus couldn’t deny that they were slimy gits, and he couldn’t help but overhear what they called the muggleborn students. Being a half blood, he was far from exempt from their taunting. Really, it was only a matter of time before they ‘got back’ at the Slytherins for some imagined crime, and the event was hastened by none other than Severus Snape, the epitome of what the boys hated about the green and silver house.

Snape was a suckup. He spoke in a gratingly nasally voice and was the object of attention by Professor Slughorn nearly every class they shared. Though independent, he was never far behind Mulciber and his goons. Worst of all, in the opinion of James, he was always somewhere around Lily Evans - not that any of the boys liked her very much anyways, except Remus, but it was unnatural for a Slytherin to follow any Gryffindor around so religiously. He was also incredibly easy to mock - with greasy black hair, a beak-like nose, and shabby robes, it was never a difficult task to find something to ridicule.

Every Friday afternoon the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years attended Flying class on the castle grounds with Madame Hooch, who had graduated her students from flying slowly up and down to doing careful loops around the courtyard. The boys, already familiar with flying, found the task positively mind-numbing; Remus, never having flown a broom in his life before Hogwarts, barely managed to stay on half of the time, and felt he was far too tall for the narrow puttering school brooms. This was evident by the way he teetered back and forth, hopelessly off balanced, and occasionally toppled over completely.

It was on one such Friday that a particularly gusty wind sent many of the more inexperienced students spinning. Remus somehow managed to lose his balance on the broom entirely, hanging on with only one hand and trying desperately to haul himself up despite the ground being only a few feet below him. The incident left Snape guffawing at the other boy’s incompetence. “What are you laughing at?” Sirius said sullenly. “It’s not like you’re any better on a broom.” Sirius, though less practiced than James, would know; he was sleek as an otter in the air.

“Loony Lupin can’t even hang on to a little broomstick,” one of Snape’s friends, Byron Avery, snapped back.

“Doubt Snivellus can either,” James taunted. As if to prove his point, he swooped over to Snape and pulled the bristles of the other boy’s broom, which bucked him off.

“Mr. Potter, that is  _ enough _ !” Madame Hooch cried, her attention drawn from helping whatever other students had had the misfortune of falling from their brooms. “Everyone, land please.” Remus, grateful for the reprieve and finally managing to scramble back on to his broom, dismounted immediately.

“Snivellus needs Hooch to come to his rescue,” Sirius said reproachfully. Snape looked furious.

“Can’t even stand up for himself,” James jumped in. “What are you going to do, Snivellus?” he said when he saw the other boy wordlessly pull out his wand. “Sniff at us?”

“ _ Calvorio! _ ” Snape cried, his face scrunching up furiously. Sirius looked on in shock; James’ hair had been shorn off his scalp by some sort of invisible razor.

“You- you knobhead!” James stammered. “Bloody hell!” By now, the argument had garnered the attention of everyone in the courtyard. “ _ Titillando! _ ” Snape doubled over, making an odd, choking noise that might have been laughter and trying to swat away some incorporeal force.

“Mr. Snape! Mr. Potter!” Hooch cried. “Ten points from Gryffindor and ten points from Slytherin for unauthorized use of magic,” she said sternly. “I expect to see both of you back here at six o’clock sharp for detention.

“He scalped me! All I did was tickle him a bit!” James complained. Hooch sighed.

“ _ Manegro, _ ” she said, waving her wand at Jame’s bare head; hair jumped out of his scalp, messier than it had ever been but precisely where it belonged. “Dueling is strictly prohibited, young man,” she warned. “Next time you might just stay bald.”

“He’s not going to get away with this,” James muttered under his breath.

* * *

Saturday found the boys in the dorm room planning their revenge - rather, James and Sirius planning their revenge, with Remus trying to keep them from doing something that might kill Snape, and Peter nodding along wordlessly.

“Ought to shave off all of  _ his _ hair,” James grumbled, when his idea to cover Snape in boils was shot down.

“Maybe we could,” Sirius said thoughtfully.

“Someone would just grow it all back, though,” Remus pointed out. “Like Hooch did for James.”

“Yeah, but it would still be humiliating. Besides,” Sirius pondered, “I think there’s a way to make everyone in Slytherin house go bald.”

The boys began poring through their textbooks, trying to find some sort of hex or potion that would make everyone’s hair fall out at once. Remus had to admit it was tempting to get revenge on Snape - it wasn’t the first time someone had thought up the nickname ‘Loony Lupin,’ and he wasn’t a fan. It was Peter who finally found something.

“Look!” he announced. “The Manegro potion!” Sirius peered over Peter’s shoulder at the proffered page.

“That makes their hair  _ grow, _ you moron,” Sirius groaned. “That’s the opposite of what we want.”

Remus was thoughtful. “It would be pretty horrid to grow a bunch of hair all of the sudden, though, wouldn’t it? They wouldn’t know what hit them.” Seeing as he grew a thick fur coat once a month, he knew from firsthand experience how dreadful it was for your body to do something outside of your control, not to mention how odd it felt to feel hair growing so quickly out of its follicles.

“They might grow manes like lions!” Peter added. “ _ Gryffindor _ lions.”

“Brilliant, men,” James said with a grin. “Now how do we brew it?”

Despite all of the boys’ subpar performance in potions, they managed to brew the potion in the hidden corridor they had found on their first night exploring. It was surprisingly simple, with no incantations and ingredients they all had in their potions kits. Peter was the real star - he explained that he cooked quite a lot at home, and the skill translated quite easily into potions. The real challenge was somehow getting it to the Slytherins. It was also Peter who thought of a solution to their dilemma.

“We have to get it into their food,” he said. “That way they won’t be suspicious.”

“And how do you propose we do that,” Sirius said, skeptical. “Wander over to their table and douse their breakfast with potion?”

“No,” Peter rolled his eyes. “We put it in there before it even gets to their table - we just need to go to the kitchens!”

“The kitchens are off limits,” Remus pointed out. “How would we even get there?” Peter just grinned mysteriously.

* * *

“I get peckish after dinner sometimes,” the young boy said, “and some of the Hufflepuff second years told me where they were.” He was leading them through the ground floor of the castle until they finally arrived at a still life featuring a lush pear and a basket of assorted fruit. Peter reached his hand out without any hesitation and tickled the pear - the fruit wriggled, as if it were laughing, and the painting swung open to reveal the wonderful smell of fresh bread and a troop of house elves scurrying about.

“Bloody brilliant, Peter!” James said in wonder. “All we need to do is slip it into their goblets of pumpkin juice before the elves magic it up to them.” At one end of the kitchens, there were four tablets, with colored placards representing each house. The house elves were carefully laying out platters of food on the tables, and a few minutes later the plates disappeared, presumably to the great hall for anyone who wanted an early lunch.

“One of us just has to come back before dinner, then, and slip it into their cups,” Sirius said. “I think Peter should do it.” The blonde boy nodded solemnly, pleased to be entrusted with such a sacred task.

That evening at supper, the boys were wriggling in their seats with excitement. Remus glanced over at the Slytherin table - students were just starting to sit down, but nothing had happened yet. He returned to scarfing down a piece of roast when an older girl shrieked.

It was chaos. Hair was sprouting everywhere - even the Slytherin girls had long beards protruding from their chins, and some of the older boys had thick, curly hair peeking out of their collars. Remus searched the crowd for Snape, who had a horrified look on his face: his greasy locks were now brushing the floor, which certainly wouldn’t help with his personal hygiene.

James slapped Peter on the back. “Well done, mate!” The other boy grinned, and Remus and Sirius discreetly gave each other fist bumps. A few of the Professors had already managed to cut through the large swathes of hair that were weighing the Slytherins down, but even that couldn’t take away from their victory.

What could take away from their victory was the stern face of Professor McGonagall; apparently they hadn’t been careful enough with their small celebration, though they hadn’t been the only ones whooping at the state of the Slytherins. “Is there anything you boys think I should know about?”

“Nothing, Professor, just celebrating a little inter-house rivalry,” James said sweetly. “You don’t think a few first years could pull something like this off, do you?” Remus gave her his best innocent look.

“It is unlikely,” McGonagall agreed, “for  _ most _ first years.” She gave the quartet a withering look. “Good evening, gentlemen.” Upon her departure, the boys high-fived each other, although much more quietly than they had before

Later that evening, alone in the library, Remus also found himself penned in by Snape. The boy’s oily hair was slightly shorter than before, but he didn’t seem to have suffered any adverse effects from the potion. He stood for a moment in front of where Remus sat, glowering, while Remus read his book and pretended to ignore his existence. Eventually he spoke up.

“You.” Snape had a sneer on his face, nose wrinkled as if Remus were a particularly foul-smelling heap of garbage the boy had the misfortune to come upon.

“Me,” Remus agreed, looking up from his book.

“Don’t think I don’t know who did this,” Snape hissed. “You and those sniveling Gryffindors you hang about with.” 

“You’re not exactly one to talk about sniveling, I would watch my mouth if I were you. Do you, perhaps, refer to the incident in the Great Hall? You know as well as I that I’m dreadful at Potions, it certainly wasn’t me. ”

“You’re certainly not,” Snape said in disdain, “but Pettigrew is at the very least marginally competent. Watch your back, Loony Lupin.”

“I would do the same if I were you,  _ Snivellus _ . Go on, now; Madame Pince would throw a fit if snot got onto the library books.” Snape made a rude gesture with his hand and stalked off, muttering to himself. Remus didn’t want to make any trouble, not really - but after all, Snape had started it. And it was sort of fun, causing mayhem. He returned to his book - a compendium on simple hexes - and daydreamed about laying waste to the Slytherin with nothing but a few well-chosen jinxes and his own sharp wit.


	9. Mudbloods

For once, Sirius was the first one awake in their dormitory - usually he had to be pulled kicking and flailing out of his bed by James, who had a penchant for waking up earlier than any of the other boys preferred. “What the hell is this about?” Remus grumbled when Sirius tore his blanket off.

“It’s Andy’s birthday!” he said. “She’s my favorite cousin, I want to wish her happy birthday first thing.”

“If you’re the one wishing her happy birthday, what do you need the rest of us for?”

“Moral support?” Remus groaned, rolling out of bed, and Sirius bounded away to harass Peter. Once everyone was mostly awake, Sirius led them at a marching pace out of the Gryffindor Tower toward the Great Hall, where he mandated they all wait at the entrance until the Slytherin girl arrived.

She wasn’t alone, though - she was walking with a tall, broad Hufflepuff in a striped yellow tie, whose arm she was wrapped around fondly. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and wandered off towards her cousin. “Good, morning, Sirius!”

“Happy birthday, Andy!” Sirius declared. “You’re old now!”

“And I wasn’t old before? I came of age last year.”

“You’re old _er_ ,” Sirius corrected. He leaned in conspiratorially, though speaking no quieter than before. “Who’s the bloke?”

“Oh - a friend.”

“You seemed a bit more than friendly,” Sirius said accusingly. “Unless pecking your mates on the cheek every morning is the new trend? I’m sure James would be thrilled.” Andromeda blushed furiously.

“Maybe we’re a bit more than friends,” she admitted. “He’s nice, you’d like him. His name is Ted Tonks.”

“Huh. Tonks isn’t a wizarding name,” Sirius noted. “Does Aunt Druella know?” Andromeda grimaced.

“He’s...muggleborn,” she replied. “Please don’t tell anyone, okay? I’d never hear the end of it.”

“You’re dating a mudblood?” Sirius’ mouth formed a small ‘o,’ shock plastered on his face. He wasn’t the only one - James bolted upright, Remus cringed and Peter went a bit pale.

“Sirius! What the hell was that?” James demanded.

“What was what?”

“That- that word!” James sputtered. “You can’t go around saying things like that!”

“There’s nothing bad about calling someone muggleborn, though, not if they are one.” Sirius said, confused. Andromeda laid her hand on his arm.

“That doesn’t mean what you think it does,” she warned. “Really. It hurts people when you say that.” Sirius dropped his head.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He stared at the ground, properly abashed, but Remus still couldn’t settle that anxious feeling in his stomach.

* * *

Halloween was approaching quickly, and after the success of the hair-growth potion James mandated that the boys should plan an equally thrilling escapade for Halloween. “No better way to celebrate a holiday, right?” Sirius and Peter agreed - Remus called his comrades _drewgi_ but couldn’t hide his excitement - there had been something thrilling about causing mayhem in the Great Hall and best of all, getting away with it.

They drafted their plan carefully - Hagrid, the gameskeeper, had already brought several immense pumpkins into the Great Hall as decoration a few days before the feast, which they would use to their advantage. James had a vast collection of magical fireworks that they would plant in the gourds, using a delayed timing spell Remus had discovered in a library book to prevent them from detonating until the right moment - the idea was inspired by their first prank, when James and Sirius had lobbed a firework into Remus, Lily and Snape’s Cure for Boil Potion and caused it to erupt.

Their plans were brought short after a particularly grueling Transfiguration class where they had been transforming beetles into buttons, one of the first years’ first introductions to animate transfiguration. Remus’ button was shiny and black, still sporting long, twitching antennae; only James’ button really fit what Professor McGonagall had been looking for, and she awarded him five house points. Sirius had had a particularly rough time of it, which was unusual. James almost always had the best results out of their little group, but the boys were all competent, Sirius especially so - but today his beetle was still scuttling around his desk by the end of class, the only difference being it was now a bit flatter. He packed his bags in a huff, and was jostled by Lily Evans on his way out. “Mudblood,” he muttered under his breath.

Lily heard him and flushed a brilliant scarlet, shoving him back and hurrying out the door. James was equally angry. “What the fuck, Sirius?”

“What?” It was as if it hadn’t even registered.

“You said it again! That- that word!”

“Oh, sorry...it must have slipped out.”

“Slipped out? _Slipped out?_ ” James demanded. “How on earth does something like that just slip out! No, really, tell me, I want to know.”

“I- look, I’m sorry, okay! It’s all I grew up with, I’m still learning!”

“YOU’RE NOT LEARNING FAST ENOUGH!” James roared.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, please settle down!” McGonagall said, attention drawn by the student currently yelling in her rapidly emptying classroom. James’ voice echoed on the stone walls, though it was a small room.

“Why the bloody hell should I settle down?” James demanded. “He called Evans the...the ‘m’ word, and he acts like it’s not his own damn fault!”

McGonagall studied them curiously. “I see,” she said. “I think ten points from Gryffindor and a detention for Mr. Black should suffice.”

“What the hell, James?” Sirius grumbled as they left the room. “It’s not the big of a deal, it’s just a word!”

“It’s a word that hurts people, Sirius! I don’t understand what’s so hard to get. Quit making excuses.” James stalked off.

“James- wait!” Sirius called. “God, what a cunt.”

“You’re no daisy yourself,” Remus growled

“What? Remus, I thought you were on my side!”

“Whatever would give you that idea? I’m just a mudblood, after all, there’s no reason for you to be associating with filth like me.” Remus turned his shoulder away from Sirius and quickly followed James.

“Remus, Peter - wait!” Remus found himself joined by the pudgy boy, who looked just as cross as Remus felt, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Peter may have been a pureblood, but his family was nowhere near as renowned as the Potters or Blacks. “I’m sorry!”

“If he were sorry, he wouldn’t have said it the second time,” Remus said quietly.

* * *

Their dormitory was very quiet that evening. James and Peter were huddled in one corner; Remus and Sirius sat on their beds in solitude, Remus reading his book and Sirius looking miserable behind their assigned Potions text.

“Remus, would you come over for a second?” James asked. Sirius perked up a bit. “Not you,” he said disdainfully. Remus wandered over to the boys.

“What is it?”

“We’re still on for Sunday night, right?”

“Er...yeah, I suppose. Will we be able to pull it off without...you know, him?” Remus jerked his head towards Sirius, who was trying to look like he wasn’t listening to his dorm mates’ conversation and failing miserably.

“It was your idea and they’re my firecrackers,” James pointed out. “Three should be more than enough.”

“I guess. There are four pumpkins, though, we’ll have to be fast and one of us will have to take an extra.”

“You know the spell best, maybe you should,” Peter said. “And if James or I finish before you we can come help.” It made sense to Remus - he told his friends as much, then returned to the book he had been reading - _To Kill a Mockingbird_ by Harper Lee. It was a bit of a grim story, and Remus found it suited his mood.

The weekend was painfully tense - Sirius gave them puppy-dog looks whenever he thought they wouldn’t notice, staring wistfully as the other three boys played lively games of Exploding Snap or Gobstones that ended all too soon without a fourth player. James and Peter pointedly ignored him, while Remus found himself returning Sirius’ stares every time he caught the other boy until Sirius looked away. What should have been a boisterous Halloween celebration felt a bit too quiet, but they all tried to pretend everything was fine, especially out of their dormitory.

The Halloween feast arrived at last. It was grand - greasy boxty smothered in maple syrup, colcannon and toffee apples, pork chops with a crispy honey glaze and steaming apple cider. For pudding, there was rich pumpkin pie with clotted cream topping.

Remus, James and Peter filed in silently just as the festivities were starting. Remus affixed his first firecracker easily, hiding it in the mouth of a large pumpkin decorated with green and silver candles inside. He assured James and Peter that he would be able to manage the second pumpkin on his own as well, and was carefully snaking his hand inside its maw when a cold tap on his shoulder sent him jumping in the air with a startled shout.

“ _Coc y gath!_ ” he swore. The firecracker slipped from his fingers, falling into candles with gold and red flames. He hadn’t been able to charm the firecracker yet, and the pumpkin exploded, huge globs of orange flesh with white tear-shaped seeds spewing over his corner of the great hall, followed by a few silver sparks.

“Language, Mr. Lupin.” It was Professor McGonagall. “I sense I don’t wish to know what you were attempting here.” She frowned slightly. “Where are the other miscreants you hang around with? I never see one of you alone.”

“Eating dinner, I assume,” he said quickly. “I did this alone. James and Peter tried to stop me, honest, and we’re not talking to Sirius.”

“Ten points from Gryffindor, and detention, Mr. Lupin,” she scolded. “There’s no need for exploding pumpkins in the Great Hall. Would I be correct in assuming the other three pumpkins have a hidden firecracker as well?”

“Yes,” he said sheepishly. “Sorry, Professor, it won’t happen again.” He was practically mumbling into the hem of his robes.

“And you’re _sure_ you did this alone?” she queried.

“Yes, Professor,” he choked out. “Just me.”

“Very well, you may go,” she conceded. “Please meet me tomorrow night after supper for your detention.” He nodded, grateful for the dismissal, and pelted to the Gryffindor table where James and Peter were sitting.

“Got caught,” he muttered into his boxty. Even the saccharine of the maple syrup couldn’t ease this wound.

“Guess we should have stuck with three pumpkins, then, for three men,” James consoled. “Not your fault, mate, could have happened to any of us.” Remus nodded sullenly, nursing a large plate and trying to pretend he couldn’t feel Sirius’ longing eyes burning a hole into his back.


	10. Sirius' 12th Birthday

Remus was prompt in arriving for his detention, figuring he might as well get it over with. It was much to his chagrin that he realized it would be shared with Sirius, who arrived at Professor McGonagall’s office only a few moments after Remus.

“Good evening, boys,” Professor McGonagall greeted them. Next to her desk stood the onerous caretaker Argus Filch, who had nearly caught the boys their first night exploring. “You’ll be serving your detention with Mr. Filch tonight - I trust you two will keep things civil?” Remus nodded curtly, eager for the encounter to end. “Very well. Argus, I believe you said the dungeons were in need of a good scrub due to an incident with Bubotuber pus?” The caretaker nodded wickedly. “I expect you will be finished by quarter to seven. Have a good night, gentlemen.”

For the first half hour they scrubbed in silence, Remus scooting away from Sirius any time he got a little too close. The blessed quietly was broken quickly, though. “Remus, I’m sorry,” Sirius begged.

“I don’t really want to hear it,” Remus snapped back. “I’m not in the mood right now, okay?”

“Really, Remus, I understand now! I did some research in the library and I talked to Evans, I know why I can’t say that word. I won’t ever say it again.” Remus said nothing. The dried yellow pus in the cracked stone of the corridor was suddenly very interesting. “Seriously, Remus, what is your problem?”

“My problem?” Remus retorted. “My problem is that somehow you went your entire life calling people mudblood willy nilly without a second thought! It’s only until your pureblood mate calls  _ cachu hwch _ on you that you finally take a moment and think!”

“What’s khaki hooch?”

“Er- what?”

“Khaki hooch,” Sirius repeated, absolutely butchering the phrase.

“ _ Cachu hwch. _ ‘Pig shit.’ It’s Welsh.”

“Oh.”

“Are you going to have a problem with that now, too?” Remus snorted.

“No, why would- nevermind.” Sirius returned to soaping up the dull grey bricks, which looked only marginally cleaner than they had before.

“I get it, Sirius,” Remus sighed. He was getting sick of giving the other boy the silent treatment very quickly, and his constant yearning glance was somehow worse than the initial transgression. “Just - do better, okay? Promise not to say that word, ever again.”

“I promise,” Sirius said solemnly. The soap was hardly making a difference on the color of the cobblestones, and Remus resorted to using his fingernails to scrape off the grime.

When the two boys returned to the dorm as if nothing had ever come between them, all it took was an exchange of glances between Remus and James for Sirius to be accepted into the fold as if he had never left. 

* * *

On Tuesday morning, several letters were delivered to the four Gryffindor boys. Peter and James both had a few biscuits to pass around, and Remus received a fond letter from his mother, wishing him well and hoping that he was making new friends despite how his father worried, and wishing him well for the upcoming full moon. Remus was already feeling a bit groggy, but was happy to use the letter as an excuse for why he would be gone that night and likely the next day. Sirius was presented with a crisp white envelope that had a delicate silver seal by his family’s screech owl that he hid immediately from the other boys.

“Seriously, what is so bad that you can’t let us see? A portrait of a trollop in the nude?” James demanded.

‘“It’s nothing, leave it,” Sirius said, trying to keep the letter out of the other boy’s grasp. “I’m serious!”

“You are Sirius,” James said triumphantly as he finally managed to snatch the letter.  _ “Master Sirius Orion Black, you are cordially invited by Mistress Narcissa Black for a celebration of your twelfth birthday on the evening of November third at six o’clock.  _ You didn’t tell us it was your birthday!” James gasped.

“It’s not a big deal,” Sirius mumbled. “Really. Just a stupid dinner party with my stupid cousin.”

“Sure, your dinner with  _ Mistress Narcissa Black _ might not be a big deal, but your twelfth birthday is! If we hadn’t found out, I would have had to assume you had the misfortune of being born in June, the youngest of us all.”

“Hey, I was born in June!” Peter cried. “It’s not that bad.”

“Well, I was born in March, a very dignified month,” James retorted. “What about you, Remus? If I may venture a guess - January?”

“Nah, March the tenth,” he said absently, not quite able to bring himself to care. He was too busy stuffing his face with hot, greasy bacon.

“Shite, you’re three weeks older than me, that’s no fair,” James said. “The twenty-seventh. But that distracts us from the matter at hand - the birthday boy!”

Their History of Magic was spent passing notes back and forth, occasionally intercepted by Sirius, who would add a comment of his own.

_ What’s the plan, lads? _ It was James’ messy handwriting.

_ Not sure, I won’t be there. Visiting my mum tonight, don’t think I’ll be back until tomorrow. -R. J. Lupin _ . Remus passed the note to Peter, who was on his left.

_ Sorry, mate. James, I’m thinking fireworks: a midnight celebration for the womb exodus of our dear Sirius. -P. P.  _ Remus received the note again, and as he handed it back to James, Sirius grabbed it from his hand.

_ I was born at 3:14 in the morning. At least be accurate! Sorry ‘bout your mum, Remus. Feels like she was sick hardly two months ago. Also, P. P. are terrible initials. What are you a massive cock? S. O. B. _ Sirius had looping, flowery handwriting that seemed at odds with how little he actually wrote. The note was adorned with a rudimentary phallus, complete with hairy balls, passed back to Remus.

_ Your initials stand for ‘Son of a Bitch,’ which I find quite accurate. Who are you, the sickness police? I’m not exactly pleased she’s ill again either. You boys have fun with your midnight shebang, quit using me as owl post. -R. J. Lupin _

* * *

Remus excused himself shortly after dinner, ostensibly to visit his ailing mother. Instead, when he was sure he wasn’t being followed, he went to the hospital wing, where he was greeted by Professor McGonagall. “You and Sirius seem to be getting along,” she noted.

“Yeah.”

“I find there’s nothing like manual labor to clear the mind. It builds character, you know,” she said as she escorted him to the tunnel under the whomping willow. “I trust you can find your way, while I seal the shack?” Remus nodded.

All things considered, it wasn’t a bad night. The weather was getting quite nippy, as it was early November in northern Scotland. The transformation, of course, was painful as ever - nothing ever made the cracking of his spine and snapping of his ligaments any easier, nor the sickening squishing feeling of his organs pushed into new places. Still, the morning after the full moon found Remus with relatively few gashes, and none of them notably bad, though he would have a few new scars on his upper arms.

He even managed to convince Madame Pomfrey to let him out of the hospital wing early enough that he wouldn’t miss Herbology before lunch. “I don’t have practical classes today,” he reasoned, “and it’s Sirius’ birthday - I’ve already missed half of it.” The nurse didn’t have any real reason to keep him, and begrudgingly let him go.

He met with the other boys outside of the greenhouse. “Remus, you’re back!” Peter cried.

“It’s a birthday miracle,” Sirius said. “Truly the best present.”

“Is your mum feeling better,” Peter asked.

“Yeah, loads. Just a scare this time, a false alarm, really. It was nice seeing her again, though.” Remus was pleased with himself, glad that his story mostly held up.

“You missed our midnight feast, unfortunately,” James told him, “but there’s still..what, seventeen hours before this Sacred Occasion concludes? Still plenty of time to eat cake and cause mayhem.” They did just that, sneaking into the kitchens for pastries and hexing a few unsuspecting Slytherin first years.

“Sirius?” Remus asked that night. ‘How does it feel to be an old man?”

“My joints are already creaking, and I think I’m going grey,” Sirius said piteously. “Still, this new year has imparted much wisdom.”

“What wisdom?” Remus snorted.

“The wisdom not to pester people when they’re trying to sleep,” he said, whacking Remus over the head with a careworn pillow with split seams that exploded into a cloud of feathers after a few good swats. The feathers tickled both boys’ noses, and Sirius had a sneeze that sounded like a kitten mewling; Remus, having gained wisdom of his own, did not notify Sirius lest he be clobbered over the head with another spontaneously erupting pillow.

* * *

Remus had another dream that night. He couldn’ quite remember all of the details; only that he had let something slip to the boys, and they assailed him violently with their fists, which turned to silver stakes, and then a shining, stainless-steel axe that cleaved him in half. He woke with a soft ‘oh!,’ chest heaving.

“Remus? Are you awake?” It was Sirius, whispering from the bed beside him.

“Yeah, bad dream. How was dinner with Narcissa?”

“Shitty.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, it was bound to be. She’s an uppity little slut, couldn’t keep her mouth off of Malfoy.” He paused for a long while. Remus had nearly drifted off to sleep again when Sirius spoke a second time. “Where do you go every month?”

“I told you. I visit my mum, she’s ill.” Remus’ chest tightened, and he was suddenly so far from sleep he wondered how he had ever drifted off so easily. “It’s very bad.”

“Yeah, but what  _ is  _ it, though?”

“Mind your own damn business.” Remus rolled over to face away from Sirius.

“It’s my birthday, you weren’t even there for my party. I deserve to know something.”  _ You wouldn’t want me at your party if you knew why I was gone _ . “Is it, I dunno, hereditary or something? You’re awfully touchy.”

“Yeah, actually, it is. Sickle cell anemia, it’s incredibly painful.” Remus blurted the first thing that came to mind, and immediately regretted it. The diagnosis made no sense, given his fair skin and European heritage, but it was too late to take it back now.

“Oh. That sounds awful. Do you have it, then?”

“Yeah. Not as bad as her. Goodnight, Sirius.”

“Is it-”

“Good night,” Remus said with finality. Eventually he heard the other boy’s breaths reach a shallow rhythm - he must have fallen asleep. Remus stared at his curtains, blood still pounding through his veins. His story wasn’t going to hold up under scrutiny at all, and he didn’t know what he was going to do when it fell apart.


	11. Snape II

Even though they were in different houses, as far as Remus was aware, Lily Evans and Severus Snape were still best friends. They were nearly always together outside of class, except for when Lily was hanging out with the Gryffindor girls or Snape was preoccupied with the Slytherins, which wasn’t often. Whenever the Gryffindors and Slytherins had a class together, the two always partnered up, and Lily often disappeared during meal times, presumably to talk to Snape. It turned out that their friendship was tumultuous, though, as Remus discovered one evening walking back from the library.

He turned a corner and at the end of the corridor stood Snape and Lily. Snape was brooding, his dark hair swept partially over his face and his shoulders slouched. Lily drew herself tall, nearly rivaling the boy in height, and her words were as fierce and fiery as her hair. “I can’t believe you hang around those boys!” Lily shouted.

“You hang around MacDonald and McKinnon all of the time,” Snape replied sullenly, toeing the ground with one foot.

“Mary and Marlene don’t insult innocent people,” Lily retorted. “Honestly, Sev, they’re just a bunch of bullies, I don’t know what you see in them. They hexed Dorcas yesterday, you know, she had to spend all evening in the hospital wing until Madame Pomfrey figured out how to make her teeth shrink.”

“James Potter and his lot hex me all the time. What’s your point?”

“I never said anything about James Potter! He’s an insolent toe rag, don’t put words in my mouth!” Lily said. “Besides, it’s not like you don’t hex them too. If you left well enough alone they would probably stop.”

“Maybe if McKinnon and Meadowes didn’t make themselves such easy targets, Mulciber and Rosier would stop,” Snape growled back. “They’re always tittering in the back of the class, it’s enough to make someone’s ears fall off.” Lily gave the boy a sharp look and wheeled around, stalking off.

“You’re lucky I don’t make your ears fall off!”

“Lily, wait!” Snape cried, but she pointedly ignored him.

Since the argument was over, Remus unwisely entered the corridor. At the sound of his footsteps ringing off of the castle wall, Snape’s head jerked up. “What are you doing here?”

“Er- just coming back from the library.” Remus stopped dead in his tracks. Perhaps this wasn’t the best decision after all.

“You little narc! You heard everything, didn’t you?” Snape demanded.

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“How hard is it to mind your fucking business, you little shit?  _ Langlock! _ ” Snape flicked his wand aggressively, and Remus’ tongue was plastered to the roof of his mouth. He backed away slowly, now unable to use his wand to defend himself. Snape gave him a last haughty look, breathing “Mudblood,” and walking off in the direction Lily had gone. Remus ran in the other direction, letting the flip-flop of the rubber soles of his trainers echoing through the corridors provide a rhythm for his breathing.

Unsure of what to do, Remus returned to Gryffindor Tower, and was met by James and Peter, who were in the middle of a game of chess. James was losing miserably, and had only managed to capture a few pawns, while Peter had already cornered the other boy in a check. “Evening, Remus!” Peter said. Remus gestured hopelessly at his mouth. “What?”

“Remus, did something happen?” James asked. He gesticulated at his mouth again, but clearly the point wasn’t getting across, so he reached into his bag for a quill and a sheet of parchment, scribbling furiously and handing the paper to James. 

_ Snape. Hexed me. _ __

“That little git,” James said. “Ought to bash his nose in. Why’d he hex you?” Remus scratched a few more words on to the parchment. 

_ Overhead him and Evans arguing, he jinxed me when he realized. I think it was  _ ‘langlock?’  _ Not sure what to do now. _

“Maybe you should go to the hospital wing? Or see McGonagall, she would be able to fix it,” Peter suggested.

_ Nah, it’s getting late anyways. I don’t know if there’s a countercurse, but can one of you try  _ finite? James read over the paper and nodded, pulling his wand out of his robes.

“ _ Finite incantatem _ !” Blessedly, Remus’ tongue was freed from his palate.

“Thank god, I thought I would be mute for life.” He patted James roughly on the back. “I was just walking back from the library, the wrong place at the wrong time, I guess.”

“Incidents like this would be easily avoided if you just stayed in the library,” Peter said wisely. “You’re there enough already, you might as well just sleep there.”

“It would certainly be more efficient,” Remus agreed.

Sirius had been serving a detention that evening, and was furious when James and Peter relayed the tale of Snape’s attack. “That little tosser!” he growled. “We should bash his brains out!”

“James said the same thing,” Remus informed him, “but somehow I doubt Professor McGonagall would approve.”

“He would deserve it, though.”

“He would,” Remus agreed easily. “I have a better idea, though.” His worries about Sirius’ suspicions were lost in his desire to make Snape pay.

* * *

The boys agreed potions class was the best time to act. It was always shared with the Slytherins, so their target was guaranteed to be there. Although they would be under supervision, there was only one of Slughorn, whereas in the Great Hall, they could be intercepted by any number of adults - notably Professor McGonagall, who had a knack for figuring out whatever they were up to. And in the event the plan did go awry, it was likely to end in some sort of explosion, which would at the very least be entertaining.

It was also agreed the Remus should be the one to perform the spell. He was the one Snape had cursed, after all. Snape was also always paired with Lily, and out of all of the boys, Lily minded Remus’ company the least. This was probably due to long nights spent in the library, and Remus’ greater interest in reading for the sake of reading than his dorm mates.

That class they were brewing an Herbicide potion, and Remus was lucky enough to be paired off with Lily, Snape, and a young Slytherin named Evan Rosier. Rosier was a gaunt-looking boy with a cruel face, and Remus didn’t like him at all, but it was the best chance he would have to get close to Snape. As the greasy boy leaned over the cauldron to add in crushed lionfish spines, Remus made his move.

“ _ Slugulus Eructo _ ,” Remus said under his breath, pointing his wand at Snape. There was a small flash of green life, and after a few seconds, the other boy went pale. He quickly covered his mouth with his hand, but it was too late - he belched, and a slimy grey slug emerged from his mouth.

“Oh my god!” Lily shrieked, backing away from the table quickly. Rosier was equally disturbed, jumping up and knocking over their shared cauldron. The acidic green liquid snaked through the cracks in the cobblestones, and Remus, trying not to laugh, stood on a stool to escape.The spilled potion was followed by two more wriggling slugs.

“You did..urgh..you did this!” Snape accused between slugs. A particularly large slug was wriggling in the corner of his mouth, and the bedraggled boy choked it out.

“I did nothing of the sort,” Remus said coolly. “Maybe you messed up the incantation for the lionfish spines?”

“ _ Locomotor wibbly! _ ” Snape tried to say, but was interrupted by another ashen slug escaping from his mouth. Instead of making Remus’ legs wiggle, the spell made Snape wobble back and forth. Giving up on hexing the other boy, he lunged for Remus, who jumped off his stool and slipped on the potion-coated cobblestones. Then Snape was on top of him, mucus dripping as he wildly tried to punch Remus, missing by a mile.

“Severus! That is enough,” Professor Slughorn said in dismay. “Attacking another student is prohibited!” His interruption managed to keep James, Sirius, and Rosier from joining the fray. “Five points from Slytherin, control yourself at once!” Snape belched miserably, and Remus managed to scrabble away. “Rosier, please take Mr. Snape to the hospital wing. Lupin, Evans please clean up your potion and join another group,” Slughorn instructed.

Remus ambled over to James, Sirius, and Peter, giving them fist bumps under the table. “Well done, lad!” James congratulated him. “That’s one for the books!”

The boys were stopped by Mulciber on their way out of the class. ‘If you’re going to fight, Loony Lupin, then you’d better fight like a man,” he scowled. “Lupin, Black, Pettigrew, Potter, I’ll see you by the dungeons tonight. Midnight. Don’t bring anyone else, and if you tell a Professor I’ll hex your nuts off.” Mulciber gave them a mean look, daring them to say something, and joined the Carrow twins on his way out of the Potions classroom.

“Bloody hell,” Peter whispered, “did he just challenge us to a duel?”

* * *

That night, at quarter to eleven, the boys carefully sneaked out of the Gryffindor Tower. The common room was nearly empty, filled only by a handful of NEWT students studying and a trio of fourth years playing a quiet game of cards. The Fat Lady warned them about breaking curfew, but seeing as she was just a painting, she couldn’t very well do anything about it. They managed to make it to the dungeons, narrowly avoiding Mrs. Norris on the third floor but arriving otherwise unscathed.

“Behind me,” James whispered. “Slytherins are dirty cheats, I bet they’ll outnumber us two to one.” They filed quietly through the corridor behind James, and as the clock chimed midnight, were met by their opponents. Mulciber was there, of course, along with Snape, Avery, and Rosier. The Carrows rounded out their pack, nearly identical, wands raised.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Mulciber grunted. “Gryffindor cowards, more like.”

“Slytherin cheats,” James retorted. “There’s six of you and four of us!”

“I didn’t think you’d actually take me seriously,” Mulciber said, eyes dancing. “Gryffindors are stupider than I thought.”

“Well? Are we going to start, or what?” Rosier said impatiently. “I want to go to bed.”

“Shut up, Rosier.” Snape elbowed him in the ribs.

“On the count of three,” James said. “One, two-”

“ _ Densaugeo! _ ” Mulciber shouted. James’ front teeth began to grow rapidly.

“Not fair!” James cried. “ _ Impedimenta! _ ” Mulciber moved much slower, as if caught in quicksand. James moved as if to cast another hex, but was weighed down by his massive incisors, and tumbled over.

“ _ Flipendo! _ ” Snape cried, and Remus found himself pushed back slightly. Then it was as if Snape’s curse broke all of their inhibitions; the corridor was filled with chaos.

“ _ Engorgio! _ ”

“ _ Everte Statum!” _

__ _ “Mimblewimble!” _

__ _ “Difindo!”  _ Remus wasn’t sure who had cast that one, but it was certainly well done. The curse slashed through his robes, leaving a stinging cut on his arm.

“ _ Expelliarmus!” _ Sirius leapt to his defense. By then, he and Sirius were the only Gryffindors standing - James was still weighed down by his teeth, and Peter had been thrown against the wall and was sneezing out sardines. Remus had managed to petrify the Carrows, and Rosier was sporting an arm much larger than the rest of his body.

Their victory was short lived.  _ “Conjunctivitis! Incarcerous! _ ” Snape said in quick succession. Remus was immediately bound by invisible ropes.

“That all of them?” Mulciber grunted. His hair was bright pink but he was otherwise fine. Snape nodded, and then it was just the sound of footsteps on stone - the Slytherins must have fled the scene, leaving their petrified comrades behind.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius moaned. “I can’t see a thing!”

‘We have to get out of here,” Peter said worriedly, He was no longer sneezing fish, and had managed to pick himself up from where he had been thrown.

“No shite! Do something!” Sirius demanded.

“I’m trying - er,  _ Finite! _ ” This did nothing for Sirius’ eyes.

“Try freeing me,” Remus said. 

_ “Difindo _ .” Remus was freed from his bondage. 

“There, now we can at least get James and Sirius moving.” James, as if to mention that he was still there, moaned slightly.

“Remus! You’re bleeding!” Peter exclaimed. The cut was worse than he had thought, and his sleeve was now drenched in blood.

“It’s nothing, we need to go before Filch finds us,” he said, hauling James to his feet.

“Er..” Peter mumbled, “what about them?”

“What about who?” Sirius whipped his head around wildly.

“The Carrows. I petrified them,” Remus sighed. “We can’t just leave them like that.”

“Sure we can, it’ll wear off eventually, and by then we’ll be long gone.” Remus said nothing. “Well? Come on!”

* * *

Madame Pomfrey had not been pleased to be awoken in the middle of the night. “Students dueling at midnight,” she complained. “Unheard of, in my day! Marauding about the corridors at all hours of the day.”

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” James pleaded. His teeth had returned to their normal size, much to everyone’s relief.

“No,” Pomfrey sighed. “Too much paperwork.” With Sirius’ eyes no longer swollen shut and Remus’ arm healed, she ushered them out of the hospital wing and warned them not to get caught on their way back to Gryffindor Tower. “I’ll not be giving you a pass, you’re lucky you weren’t caught,” the matron said sternly. The boys made it back to Gryffindor Tower safely, thankfully.

“Men, I reckon this is war,” James announced once they were tucked safely in their dormitory. “We may have lost this battle, but Gryffindors will reign supreme!”

“Aye!” Sirius and Remus agreed. Peter was pale in the face but nodded his head weakly.

“Aye,” he whispered.

“Now,” James said with a flourish, “to plan our next move.”


	12. Avoidance

Thus began the feud; the time between classes was dedicated to hexing, or alternatively, fleeing from, the Slytherin first years. Even McGonagall’s heavy handed attempts at reigning the boys in were met with resistance. It was Sirius’ mother who put an end to the warfare, surprisingly.

It began a few days after the first December full moon, which was particularly bad for Remus, as full moons went. It was one of the longest nights of the year, a few weeks before the Winter Solstice, and it was absolutely frigid, even for Scotland in the dead of winter. Remus had had nearly eighteen hours of uninterrupted moonlight to savage himself as a wolf, puncturing a lung with his fangs and developing a bad bout of pneumonia. He had spent three miserable days in his lonely ward in the hospital wing, and was still coughing despite the fluid having been drained from his chest and the countless doses of Pepper-Up Potion Madame Pomfrey had administered, which caused steam to come blowing out of his ears as if he were the Hogwarts Express. His nose was certainly red enough.

“Remus! Godric, you look terrible every time you come back!” Sirius greeted him.

“I would be offended if I had the energy,” Remus groaned. “Bugger off. It’s just the flu.”

“Is it catching?” Peter asked. “I don’t want to get sick.”

“Peter!” James said, aghast. “He’s our mate!”

“It’s not,” Remus assured. “Pomfrey gave me Pepper-Up Potion, I should be fine soon.” This was evident by the small puffs of smoke still floating out of his ears. He spent that evening huddled up by the fire in the Gryffindor common room - he didn’t have the luxury of solitude there, but it was much warmer next to the flames than it was their dorm the floor above. James and Sirius chattered endlessly about a new member to one of their favorite professional Quidditch teams, and Peter sorted through his enormous collection of chocolate frog cards until they were eventually kicked out by a disgruntled NEWT student who demanded Remus’ prime seat. He was out like a light, with two extra blankets piled on top of him.

Thankfully they had been given a free period that morning - they wouldn’t have any lessons until after lunch. That morning there was a full English breakfast, complete with sunny-side-up eggs and crispy pieces of bacon to go along with the roasted tomato and chewy mushroom. It was mouth-wateringly delicious - the eggs had a perfect runny yolk, a bright-yellow orange that matched the candlelight illuminating the ceiling of the Great Hall, and the small pucks of black pudding were perfectly seasoned.

After breakfast, Remus admitted all he really wanted to do was sleep. They trundled back up to Gryffindor Tower - the other boys to put on their mittens so they could go play in the snow - and were accosted by a few Slytherins in the hallway.

“Potter.”

“Mulciber, Avery.”

“Fancy seeing you here. And little Peter Pettigrew, he’s always in your footsteps, isn’t he?” Peter bristled.

“Shut up, Mulciber,” Remus said hoarsely. “Mind your own fucking business, or your nose will end up as big as Snape’s.”

“Loony, Loopy Lupin. I hope whatever you have isn’t catching,” the burly boy said, hand gripped tightly around his wand.”

“Look, Mulciber, it's your two against our four, do you really want to get into this now?”

“Oy - Carrow! Snape!” Mulciber called to three figures trailing from the Great Hall. “Care to join us?”

“Hexing little Gryffindor cubs again, Mulciber?” Amycus Carrow asked. “Excellent.”

“Five against four now, I think I like my odds,” Mulciber told James.

“ _ Locomotor-”  _ James started to say.

“ _ Obscuro!” _ Rosier cried. James was blindfolded.

“ _ Herbifors!” _ Remus managed to choke out, before falling into a violent fit of coughing. Daisies sprouted from Snape’s nose and ears.

“ _ Petrificus Totalus! _ ” It was the male Carrow, using the same spell Remus had cast on him a few weeks before. Remus’ limbs clapped to his sides and his spine was forced to straight; then he keeled over, flat on his back. There was an odd tickling sensation in his throat from the phlegm he hadn’t managed to dislodge.  _ Disgusting _ .

The duel ended, eventually, and Remus was unpetrified, though it appeared to have no winner; both sides were sporting strange ailments due to various hexes, and the affair had been broken up by Professor McGonagall.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“They attacked us!” Rosier said, jabbing his wand at James and Sirius.

“Not true! We were heading back to the Tower when Mulciber called those idiots over,” James nodded at Snape and the Carrows, “and they started hexing us!”

McGonagall sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Whatever the cause, cursing other students is prohibited. Ten points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin - you will receive your detention slips this afternoon once I figure out what to do with you.”

“Not fair, they started it!” James cried. “And Remus is sick, he was just going back to the tower to sleep!”

“ _ I’m fine _ ,” Remus rasped, furrowing his eyebrows. “Snape is slimy as they come, his hair ought to be considered a public health hazard, and he’s still getting detention.”

“Go to your common rooms before I take off more points,” McGonagall said. “I expect to see you all attending your lessons on time today.” Before anyone could protest, she narrowed her eyes, and they all fled to their respective dormitories.

* * *

Word must have traveled to the Black family manor, because the family’s screech owl was waiting at the Gryffindor table expectantly Tuesday morning, helping itself to a few pieces of bacon and sending cool glares at anyone who dared approach it. Sirius took the crimson envelope it had from its talons with a shaking hand, and slowly peeled the wax seal off.

**“Sirius Orion Black!”** the letter screamed.  **“You are a disgrace to the family name! Attacking the noble house of Slytherin like a lowly dog, detention after detention! You,”** it wailed,  **“are the worst mistake of my life! If you even want to think about coming home for Christmas, you will stop this ridiculous behavior at once!”** The letter exploded, and Sirius, who was staring blankly into the distance, was left with nothing but a few singed scraps of paper in his hand and the ogling stares of the entire Great Hall.

“Pleasant woman,” Sirius said lamely. 

“All right, mate, it’s a wonder that my mother hasn’t sent me twice as many howlers,” James consoled. The thought was weakened somewhat by its messenger, whose mother sent chocolate biscuits on a biweekly basis and never had more than a stern closing sentence for her darling son. Sirius chuckled dryly.

“A wonder,” he agreed.

* * *

The weeks leading up to the Christmas break were tense. Despite an end to the outright war, resentment still stewed between the Gryffindors and Slytherins, and without an outlet, it was sure to go sour without something done. Even the oncoming holiday wasn’t enough to brighten the mood, although the red-and-green tinsel hung around the castle certainly helped.

Their evenings were much quieter than they had been before - it was too bitter to venture outside for very long, though James often insisted on dragging them along to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice, an event that had once barely happened once a month but was now occurring with increasing frequency. “Need to watch and see how I’ll fit in when I’m on the team next year,” James responded when prompted. There were three players graduating that year, and he had a grand plan of trying out for Seeker during their second year when students were finally allowed to bring broomsticks and join the Quidditch team.

Remus spent more and more time holed up in the library - through the month of December, he had managed to devour the  _ Odyssey, _ the  _ Iliad, _ and was making a large dent in the  _ Chronicles of Narnia _ , as well as spending copious amounts of time on his schoolwork - certainly more than ten-inch essays mandated.

Peter, strangely enough, had taken up crochet. “My mum taught me,” he explained, “and she finally bought needles light enough for our owl to carry as an early Christmas present.” He was in the middle of knitting a red-and-gold woolen cap made of soft yarn that he wove together with dexterity. Upon its completion, he topped it with a tawny pompom and wore it whenever they went outside.

Sirius was nowhere to be found. Although the boys had all taken up fairly solitary activities with the onset of winter, they were still within close proximity of each other - Peter and Remus always joined James on the Quidditch pitch with their respective hobbies, and Remus was knitting a few bookmarks at the behest of Peter, though his tended to end up lopsided. Except for when they were in their dorm after curfew and were forced to be together during class, Sirius kept his distance, going so far to hang out with  _ Lily Evans _ , of all people. Remus never thought Sirius would be enough of a swot for that.

* * *

It was a particularly blustery evening, and James was absolutely furious that Quidditch practice had been canceled in light of the violent wind. “It’s important to practice in all conditions!” he protested, and told the captain of the Gryffindor team as much - he was sent to the hospital wing with ears that had shriveled up like figs.

With James and Sirius gone and Peter engrossed in his hat, Remus excused himself to go to the library. He was between  _ Narnia _ books and decided it might be nice to read a lighter, more cheerful novel until he thoroughly digested  _ The Horse and His Boy _ . The library was unusually crowded that night, probably due to the dreadful weather, and Remus was hard-pressed to find a comfortable spot to settle down in solitude.

He was browsing the shelves, paging through  _ The Lottery _ before deciding it was a bit too grim for his mood, when he looked up and saw Sirius. “‘Lo,” he greeted the boy, who waved and then slunk off.  _ That’s odd, _ Remus thought,  _ he’s definitely avoiding me. _ Then all of the air was grabbed from his lungs.  _ What if he knows? _ Remus found himself sitting without remembering the action, and held his head in his hands until it finally felt like he wasn’t suffocating, though it did feel like an erumpent was planted firmly on his chest.

He found Sirius again at a small table half-hidden in a corner and sat down pointedly across from the boy. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” Remus noted conversationally, trying to pretend he wasn’t ready to run to the far ends of the earth and hide somewhere totally remote. Sirius grunted at him. “It’s odd, isn’t it,” Remus continued, “seeing as we share a dorm. Almost as if you’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Sirius mumbled. “Just busy.”

“Busy reading..what’s that,  _ The Catcher in the Rye? _ ” Remus made a face. “You’d rather read  _ that _ than hang out with us?”

“It’s a good book!” Sirius said. “I like it.”

“You would,” Remus snorted. “You remind me of Holden.” That made Remus pause. “...is there someone you’re worried about?”

“No.” Sirius said shortly.

“I recall you mentioning a young Phoebe at home whose company you quite enjoyed. Regulus, right?” Sirius looked like he had been slapped.

“Shut up!” He stood and made to leave.

“Sirius, wait!” When he was ignored, “What the hell is your problem?”

“My goddamn problem,” Sirius spat, “is that you lot are running about like hooligans, and if I make any more trouble I might,” he choked, “might not...be able...to go home for Christmas.” The words hung in the air. It was lucky they were in a corner, because by then they were speaking full volume, and without the tall shelves to muffle their voices they surely would have been overheard.

“I thought you didn’t like your family very much?” Remus asked gently. More silence.

“Not my parents,” Sirius said quietly, “but Regulus is different. I miss him, I’m worried about him.” Remus nodded.

“You’ll be happy to know, then, that we haven’t hexed any Slytherins in weeks.” 

“Really?” Sirius looked up, surprised. Apparently he had been so busy avoiding them he hadn’t noticed the conspicuous lack of jinxes exchanged in the corridors.

“You’ve been too engrossed in your overhyped classics, I’m sure,” Remus said, “But James, Peter, and I have been a right bunch of swots lately, nauseatingly so. Not unlike yourself.”

“Oh.” Sirius studied the orange cover of his book. “I guess I have been avoiding you,” he admitted. “Not very Christmas-y.”

“I must agree, ignoring your best mates is neither holly nor jolly. Perhaps we should put an end to it?”

“Perhaps we should,” Sirius agreed, and that was that.

* * *

There were no more howlers at breakfast for the rest of term, or even strongly worded letters delivered by the brutish screech owl. Before Remus knew it, the term had drawn to a close, and they were all bundled on to the Hogwarts Express until they returned for the new year. “It’ll be weird being back home after all this time,” James offered, after losing his third game of Gobstones in a row.

“Yeah,” Remus said thoughtfully. He had missed his parents, of course, in an absent sort of manner, but his father wasn’t around half of the time anyway, and even his mother’s large personality wasn’t enough to match the energy created by three lively boys. The rest of the ride on the Hogwarts Express - which wasn’t very long, as they were quickly approaching London - was spent in near silence, though not awkward. It just seemed like they all had something to think about for when they arrived home.

James jumped off of the train at the soonest opportunity, greeting his parents, an older man and woman who were greying but still had a twinkle in their eye. His mother was fair with carrot-colored hair, and his father was dark, like James, with the same circular glasses. James was quickly followed by Remus and Peter; Remus’ father was waiting for him, in shabby tweed robes and a smile on his worn face. He hugged his father tightly, breathing in his familiar scent - coffee and old leather. “Merry Christmas, Remus,” his father said.

“Merry Christmas, dad.”


	13. Christmas 1972

“Remus! You’ve grown!” his mother cried. “You’re going to be taller than I am in a few years,” she said, smiling.”

“He’s got my genes,” his father agreed easily. The man towered at slightly over six feet tall, and given that Remus was already a bean pole, it was likely he would end up a similar height.

“I missed you, mum,” Remus said into her shoulder. She smelled like apples and cinnamon, and sure enough, there was a steaming apple pie waiting for him in the kitchen. “This is delicious,” he mumbled through a mouthful of pie. The apples were tart and soft, tasting of a hint of nutmeg, and the crust was a perfect buttery golden-brown that flaked into little pieces on his fork.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” his mother warned. Remus swallowed his bite of pie.

“Sorry.”

“How is Hogwarts? I want to hear all about it!” she prompted. Remus launched into a retelling of his months away - the classes were challenging, but not too difficult, except for Potions, which was nightmarish, and History of Magic, which was dull in every sense of the word. He tried to gloss over his detentions, but Professor McGonagall must have sent his parents a letter about it, so he had to explain the exploding-pumpkin prank he had tried, and failed, to pull off, as well as the ongoing war with the Slytherin first years.

“My dorm mates are awesome, you’d love them,” he said conversationally. The lines on his father’s face deepened slightly - Remus knew he wasn’t eager for the boy to make friends, lest they find out his secret. “James loves Quidditch, dad, I bet you could talk to him for hours, and for some reason, Peter knits. And there’s Sirius, of course, he’s absolutely brilliant.” His father frowned.

“Sirius Black?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not exactly a common name, now, is it?” 

“Be careful around him,” his father sighed, “the Blacks aren’t the kind of family you want to be messing about with.”

“He’s not like them, he’s in Gryffindor!”

“There is that,” the elder Lupin admitted. “Either way, you can’t let yourself get too close to them.” Remus nodded dourly.

* * *

The week leading up to Christmas was quiet. His father was away working, as usual - he had quit his well-paying job at the Ministry years ago in order to better hide Remus’ condition and now worked at an owl post office. His mother, a part-time grocer, bustled in and out of the house constantly, slowly filling the cottage with red-and-green streamers and a massive collection of baby Jesuses. With the endless activity, and unable to go outside and play due to the busy time of year, Remus found himself holed up in his room reading.

The days passed mercilessly slowly. The Lupins had no reason to keep an owl, having secluded themselves, and Remus was loathe to spend his allowance on sending a letter through owl post, so his only connection to the outside world was the occasional letters that James and Peter sent him, detailing their Christmas exploits - apparently, James had invited Peter to stay, and from the sound of it the two young boys were getting up to all sorts of mischief. Meanwhile, Remus was rereading  _ A Wizard of Earthsea _ for the third time, and had nothing to add to the letters he sent back using the boys’ owls other than stern warnings that they really ought to finish the homework they had been assigned over the holiday. Oddly enough, Remus didn’t receive any letters from Sirius, but he chalked it up to the boy being busy with his younger brother.

Christmas Eve finally arrived, and both Remus’ parents had opted to take a few day's break from their busy schedule. His mother decided it was the perfect opportunity to go to Christmas Eve mass, a tradition she and her husband argued about constantly.

“It’s one night, for Christ’s sake,” the woman grumbled, “I don’t understand why he can’t bloody well come!” Remus had ventured down into the kitchen for a glass of water and had found his parents arguing in the living room.

“It’s not a good idea, Hope,” his father said. “He’s already looking a little peaky, what if someone thinks..?”

“They’re all fucking  _ muggles _ like me, Lyall, as far as they know werewolves don’t exist!” Hope spat. “I thought you respected my traditions! Can’t I spend one Christmas with my own family celebrating?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. What will people think of a sickly-looking boy with bruises and scars all over? It’ll be the talk of the town. He’s staying home, and that’s final.” Remus wasn’t sickly looking! Sure, he got a bit tired before the full moon sometimes, but that was just unfair.

“ _ Coc y gath, _ it’s the middle of winter, Lyall, he’ll be bundled up in twenty layers regardless! No one will know!”

“ _ No, _ Hope, it’s too dangerous. What part of this do you not understand? Letting him run about with the village boys when I’m not looking, socializing with those odious women, you’re putting us all in danger. It’s bad enough he’s gotten close to his dorm mates at Hogwarts.”

“You don’t respect me!” Hope yelled. “You’re a goddamn wizard, so you’re better than me. You don’t believe in my traditions, so you’re better than me. You sacrifice your entire life to hide away from the world, so you’re better than me! I’m leaving.” She grabbed her coat and stalked out the door, despite the Christmas mass being a few hours away still.

Once Remus felt the coast was clear, he tiptoed quietly into the kitchen, where his father was sitting, head in his hands. “You heard the whole thing, didn’t you,” Lyall sighed.

“Um...maybe. Yeah.” Remus was suddenly uncomfortable, and something inside him urged him to retreat back to his room, but he stood fast.

“You understand, though, don’t you? Bad enough that you’re at Hogwarts, it’s a necessary evil, and I know you can’t very well isolate yourself living with three other boys…” Guilt rose in Remus’ chest - his father had told him it would be unwise to become a total hermit, but Remus had certainly become closer to his dorm mates than he had ever intended. “But this is an unnecessary risk. Your mother doesn’t quite understand, she grew up believing that magical creatures were nothing but stories. You would think, though, something would click after all these years.

“Er. Yeah, I guess.” It was hard to believe that something like that wouldn’t ‘click.’ Remus barely had any frame of reference for what might happen to him except for the terrible stories he was told and his early memories from St. Mungo’s, and he was still terrified about what might happen if he were to be discovered. “Maybe we could do something...Jesus-y here? To help her feel a little better.”

“I suppose,” his father conceded. “I think she might appreciate it if you set up the Nativity.” It was a good suggestion - the Nativity scene his mother owned had been a gift from her father when she was young, with beautiful hand-carved pieces including little animals and the three wise men. Its presence was always reserved for Christmas Eve. Remus nodded, finishing his water, and began to search for the box it was hidden in.

It was late when he finally finished fiddling with the last piece. The scene had been difficult to find amongst the countless boxes of Christmas decorations, accumulated over the years, and Remus was determined for the scene to appear perfect for his mother. He was pleased by the result of his efforts - the little wooden people and animals surrounded a small manger in a neat arc, nestled snugly under a small model of a wooden barn with a delicately carved star on top. On the rafters, he had set wooden angels, complete with wings, though one of them had had the misfortune of losing its halo to time. He hid the small figure of a wooden child in swaddling close behind one of the larger angels, remembering the times his mother had scolded him for setting out the baby in the manger before Christmas Day.

It was dark outside, and snow was softly falling in the small grove their cottage was concealed in, lit only by lanterns hung by the front door. Remus sat by the window, nose pressed up against the cool glass until he spotted a bundled figure reminiscent of a tall, willowy woman moving toward the house. A few moments later, the door opened.

“Mum!” Remus cried. “Where did you go?” Although Remus usually overheard conversations, given his good hearing and the size of their cottage, his mother tended to be oblivious to that fact, and he decided she didn’t need to know that.

“Just church,” she said wistfully. “I wish you would have gone. It was so cosy, and the chapel was beautiful under the snow.”

“I wish I had gone too,” he agreed, though that was a lie - he didn’t particularly fancy an evening spent in a stuffy room full of people he had never met worshipping some deity that had never shown itself in Remus’ life. Certainly, no all-powerful being would let a four-year-old child become a werewolf. His mother carefully pulled off her outerwear, laying the damp pieces of clothing by the fire to dry.

“Oh, Remus!” she said. “Did you set up the Nativity for me?” He nodded triumphantly and relished the warm hug his mother gave him.

“It took hours,” he bragged, and she kissed him on the top of his head. “Can we have cocoa?”

“Of course, darling. What do you say we make it together?” This really meant that his mother would prepare it and he would watch, as he laid waste to any food he tried to prepare, but he followed eagerly - hot chocolate would be perfect before bed on such a cold night.

* * *

Remus woke early Christmas morning and crept carefully out of his room. His parents were still asleep, though his mother, always an early riser, would probably be up soon, followed by his father. In his arms he cradled two small packages, wrapped in burlap. Each package contained a small knit bookmark and biscuits he had pilfered from the castle kitchens. He set them in place under their tiny ‘Christmas shrub,’ as it was affectionately nicknamed, and settled himself in a chair to wait.

Finally, his parents joined him in the living room, and Remus began to rip open his presents. He didn’t usually get much - money was always a bit tight - but anything he did have, he cherished dearly. First was a pair of woolen socks from his mother; they were a pale grey and very soft, if slightly bristly. From his father, there was a pack of chocolate frogs and a small box of Bertie’s Every Flavored Beans. The final package was in the shape of a book, and he tore it open to reveal a brand new paperback of  _ The Tombs of Atuan _ .

“I love it!” he exclaimed gleefully, hugging each of his parents in turn. “Now open mine!” His bookmarks, though a little asymmetrical, were accepted gratefully, as were the brittle gingerbread biscuits. After all of the presents were open, Remus’ mother began carving a small roast hen, while his father prepared mashed potatoes and collard greens to go with it. Remus was sent out to shovel the walk. It wasn’t snowing anymore, but the wind was still blowing harshly, and by the time the walk was usable his nose and cheeks had turned a bright red, and his nose was dripping slightly.

When he came back inside his ears burned pleasantly with the new-found heat, and the delicate aroma of peppermint and beeswax followed by the mouth-watering scent of chicken skin drifted toward him. The dinner was fairly small, just enough for a few people, but it was delicious; the greens had been marinated in vinegar and were bitter, but still delicious, and perfectly complemented by a small dish of cranberry sauce. For pudding, there were candied oranges.

Remus was settling into bed when there was a rapping noise on his window. Cautiously, he opened it, but it was nothing more than James’ snowy owl, laden with a large package. Remus ripped it open eagerly; inside were a few Licorice Wands and a large bag of Fizzing Whizbees, along with a small note from James and Peter.

Guilt instantly welled up in Remus’ chest - he hadn’t thought to get the other boys anything, though he wasn’t sure what he would have bought anyways - the few knuts he had to his name were a meager amount compared to the astronomical prices in the catalog Remus had browsed through on the ride back to King’s Cross station. Still, he sent back two chocolate frogs with the owl, vowing to save a third to give to Sirius on the Hogwarts Express, unless he sent a letter in the meantime.

* * *

New Year’s Eve found Remus totally exhausted. It was a bit unfair that there was a full moon during the Christmas holiday, but unfair was a theme to lycanthropy Remus had become accustomed to. He didn’t complain when his father, with his greying hair and worried lines written deep into his forehead, carefully cuffed iron manacles around his limbs and neck, though the braces were beginning to chafe, slightly too small. The precautions were necessitated by Remus’ increased size and strength as he grew, with the risk that he would ram through the cellar door, though neither party liked them.

His father gave him a kiss on the head and left the basement that had been designated for Remus’ transformation, a small space that had once been used for storage, and locked the door behind him. Remus didn’t have to wait very long for the transformation to begin. He could already feel the moon pulling at him while he was chained, and soon enough his bones were breaking, his muscles warping and his skin stretching to accommodate a new form; his screams of agony were lost in desperate howls until the wolf took over his mind, too.

When he came to, it was difficult to breathe. He must have twisted in his bonds during the night because the steel collar around his neck was far too tight and he felt his windpipe pressing against it with each strangled breath he tried to take in. His vision was swimming and his head pounding, chest constricted from the lack of air, when his father finally freed him from the cuffs. “Godric, Remus,” he gasped. “I’m so sorry.” Remus shrugged weakly, unable to move. His head lurched as his father deftly picked him up and carried him to his room, where he promptly fell asleep.

When he woke up his arms and chest were tightly bandaged and his bladder was full to the bursting. He stood up and was relieved when he only stumbled a bit, instead of falling to his knees. He tottered gingerly into the bathroom. As he washed up, he couldn’t help but look in the mirror. His neck was ringed with dark purple bruises, with a few colorful patches of green, yellow, and brown decorating the edges. There were several half-healed cuts where the collar must have chafed. As always, there were dark shadows under his eyes. He reached up to touch the bruises, and flinched; they were really quite bad, and the healing of contusions wasn’t a part of his father’s minuscule arsenal of healing spells.

Remus was engaged in a heated argument with his parents Saturday evening, the day before he was set to return to Hogwarts. “I’m fine!” This wasn’t entirely true, but after two weeks of near-solitude only punctuated by a few festivities, he was eager to see his friends again.

“It might do him good to go back, Lyall, being cooped up in the house won’t solve anything,” his mother suggested gently. “I know it’s not ideal, but his robes should cover...the marks. And he can see the school’s matron right away.”

Defeated, his father sighed. “We’ll see in the morning, but if you’re feeling up to it, as long as you’re careful…”

“Yes!” Remus jumped up to hug his father, then winced when one of the cuts on his chest was pulled open slightly. “I’m fine,” he insisted at his father’s worried look. He hurried off to his room as best he could, bruised and battered as he was, to go pack. Seeing his family again was wonderful, and though there was a small pit in his stomach that insisted it was dangerous to go back so soon, he was eager to return to Hogwarts - for his classes, the massive library, and of course, his friends. 


	14. Narcissa Black

Remus, James, and Peter were already settled in their compartment at the Hogwarts Express when Sirius burst in, just before the train left the station. He was panting slightly, probably from running, and his hair was in disarray. He sat in sulkily by the door.

“Wotcher, Sirius!” Remus said. “How was your Christmas? I haven’t heard from you. Would have sent a letter myself, but my family doesn’t have an owl.”

“Shite,” he grumbled. “Sorry for not sending anything. Mum was mad at me, she took Fang away.” Fang was Sirius’ oversized barred owl. The name was quite accurate, as the creature bit indiscriminately, and was seldom used. Sirius did seem a bit happier now, though - perhaps he had been worried Remus was ignoring him?

“S’all right,” Remus replied, tugging at his collar. “Don’t worry about it.”

The other boy’s mood only improved, especially with the appearance of the snack trolley - Sirius nearly bought out their entire store of pumpkin pasties. “So what did you all get for Christmas?” he finally asked, after inhaling two pasties and nearly choking.

“Loads,” James said cheerfully. “You’ll never guess what my dad gave me.”

“What? The newest Cleansweep?”

“Well, of course,” James laughed, “but that’s not all. I’ll show you in the dorms tonight, it’s top secret.” Peter was bursting at the seams. He had spent Christmas with James and probably knew what secret the boy held. “What about you?”

“A few new quills, they’re quite nice, actually. For a bunch of stuck-ups, my parents give great gifts. New dress robes too,” Sirius said, making a face.

“I got some socks, chocolate, and a new book,” Remus said. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He handed Sirius the chocolate frog he had been saving, careful not to let the sleeve of his robe slip. “Sorry, it’s not much,” he admitted.

“That’s alright. Didn’t get you much either.” Sirius passed a small box over to Remus. “Well? Open it! James and Peter already got theirs.” Remus carefully lifted the lid of the box; it was a small box of delicate chocolates with icing that changed colors. 

“Sirius, this is excellent! Thank you!” Remus smiled. “How did you know chocolate was my favorite?”

“Oh, just a guess,” Sirius said, waving Remus away. “Just figured that since every time we sneak down to the kitchens you gorge yourself on the stuff, you might enjoy some without the effort of having to harass the house elves.” Remus blushed. Was it that obvious he enjoyed the sweet? 

“Now, I have to ask,” Remus said gravely. “Did anyone do their homework over the holiday?”

“Er...no,” James said, shaking his head.

“I started,” Peter offered. “Didn’t get far though.”

“Absolutely not,” Sirius said. “That’s what the train ride back is for.” Remus groaned.

“Am I going to have to spend the entire ride reading over your essays?”

“Yes,” James said simply, beginning to scribble furiously on a sheet of parchment. “Our Christmas present to you.” Remus punched him lightly in the arm. “My New Year’s resolution is to get my homework done without you, promise!”

* * *  


That evening in their dormitory, James demanded complete and utter silence. Once he had the rapt attention of the other boys, he carefully pulled a shimmering grey cloak out of his trunk. ‘Er- it’s nice enough,” Remus said, “but what’s so special about it?”

“Watch,” James said mysteriously. Peter looked like he was about to piss his pants. With a flourish, James wrapped the cloak around himself and disappeared.

“Bloody hell!” Sirius cried. “An invisibility cloak?”

“Been in the family for years,” James grinned. “Dad thought he’d give it to me, aid in our mischief-making.”

“Mischief which is not going to involve the Slytherins,” Remus said dourly. “Can I try?” James handed the cloak over gracefully, and Remus carefully draped it over his shoulders. He didn’t feel different, but when he looked down, he couldn’t see his feet anymore. He held out his arms - recently healed by Madame Pomfrey, who had his eternal thanks, despite a few new scars lacing them - but nothing appeared to be there. “This is amazing,” he breathed.

“Truly excellent, isn’t it?”

“Hey! My turn!’ Sirius demanded. Whatever force had possessed him to disregard pulling pranks must have been dispelled. Remus handed the cloak to the other boy. Sirius’ knuckles had a few small scabs on them - he hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d had an awful Christmas, but the sorry state of his hands just made Remus wonder more. Punching a wall or something of the like, probably, but why?

Once Sirius had felt he’d had his fair turn, James instructed them all to clamber under the cloak. Remus stood in the back, the tallest of the bunch, with James and Sirius huddled in front of him. Peter was the shortest, so he was at the head of the pack. It took only a few unsynchronised steps for the boys to trip over themselves and land in a tangle of limbs. “Watch where you’re going!” Sirius complained.

“You stepped with your left foot first! We agreed, right, left, right!” James shot back.

“No, it was left, right, left,” Sirius retorted. “Either way, you stepped on me, you tosser.”

“I’m fairly sure it was right, left, right,” Remus said in amusement. Sirius launched himself at Remus in a wordless cry, and their heap quickly became a dog pile.

“Left, right, left!” Sirius shouted. “You’re wrong, admit it!” Sirius had Remus in a headlock, which he broke out of easily, pinning the long-haired boy by his shoulders.

“Sirius, you’re severely lacking in sportsmanship,” Remus said calmly. “With an attitude like that, no one will want to play with you.”

“I’ll show you playing!” Sirius tried to flip Remus, but only managed to roll over. “Fine, you win,” Sirius admitted. He made a good show of it and was laughing.

“Alright, lads, back to work,” James announced. “And this time, it’s right, left, right. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Sirius said with a salute.

* * *  


Sirius already had the perfect outing planned for the invisibility cloak’s maiden voyage. Apparently, his cousin, Narcissa Black, had caught him with dung bombs at the Black Christmas Dinner, and the retribution was fierce. ”The daft cow caught me and I was locked in my room until New Years,” he said in explanation.

“What are we going to do, then? Infiltrate her dorms?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, I suppose so. Shouldn’t be hard to figure out the password, and no one will be able to see us.”

“Sirius, I think you’re forgetting something? We can’t get into the girl’s dorms.” Remus said. Sirius scoffed.

“Of course we can, they can get into our dorms, can’t they?” This fact had been revealed when the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, Ezekiel Goldhorn, had entered his dormitory with not one, but two Gryffindor girls after a very close victory on the Quidditch pitch against Ravenclaw.

“Has no one here read  _ Hogwarts: A History _ ?”

“We’ve all read it,” James rolled his eyes, “but you can’t expect us to remember every detail.” Remus sighed.

“Fine, go try it, then.”

“Okay.” James shrugged. “Move out, lads!” They marched out of the dormitory into the Gryffindor common room, where James began to ascend the stairs to the girl’s rooms. He had made it halfway up the staircase when a loud alarm sounded, and the staircase flattened into a slide; James belly-flopped onto it and slid to the bottom of the stairs, landing in a heap.

“Who tried to get into the girl’s dorms?” Mary and Lily peered out of their dorm, closest to the stairs.

“Just Potter, no surprise there,” Lily said scornfully. “C’mon, Mary, finish doing my hair!” The girl’s ginger locks were partway done up in an intricate braid. The pair shuffled back inside.

“Was I right or was I right?” Remus said, standing over James, who picked himself up carefully.

“You were right,” the boy groaned. “New plan.”

* * *  


After a few days of planning the intricacies of Sirius’ revenge and practicing moving around unseen in the invisibility cloak, they were ready to enact their plan. It first involved finding where the laundry was done, information that was divulged by the house-elves in the kitchen, though not without time spent talking in circles. The cloak wasn’t needed for that part; All they had to do was sneak in and knick a pair of Narcissa’s panties. It wasn’t as if the house elves were going to tell anyone.

The second portion of the plan was riskier. All four boys crept carefully under the cloak during a free period to the dungeons, hoping a Slytherin would be entering or exiting their common room. Luckily enough, a pair of second years arrived only a few minutes later, and the Gryffindor boys followed them in.

The Slytherin common room was starkly different from Gryffindor Tower. The tapestries were green and grey, of course, but that was to be expected. Instead of plush armchairs and soft leather couches, there were ornate wooden seats, sparsely cushioned. There were no windows looking out onto the castle grounds - rather, a few portholes that provided a view of fish swimming by. Remus hadn’t known the Slytherin dungeons were underneath the lake, but it made sense.

The atmosphere of the common room was different as well. Gryffindor Tower was rowdy, and there were always students engaged in a fierce game of Exploding Snap, the exception being when the NEWT students chased them off late at night. The Slytherin common room was eerily quiet, with a few isolated groups of students talking quietly amongst themselves.

Beneath the cloak, they climbed the stairs slowly, tackling each step with decisive movements until they reached the boy’s dormitories. Sirius read the nameplates on each door under his breath until he found one that suited his liking - it was home to three Slytherin six years that he must have been familiar with, though the other boys were not. The door was unlocked and they opened it slowly, careful not to let it creak.

“Just drop them on one of the beds,” Sirius hissed. “It doesn’t matter which one, hurry before they come back. Peter cautiously placed the pink lacy panties, held delicately between two fingers, on the first bed, and breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened. They snuck out again, quiet as mice, and made their escape.

They came to dinner early that evening to watch the fallout. The Great Hall was nearly full when it happened. A tall, platinum blonde fifth-year Slytherin named Lucius Malfoy approached the dark-haired, aristocratic girl Sirius had pointed out. She bore a striking resemblance to Andromeda. They were talking about something, though Remus couldn’t hear what. Sirius frowned when the Slytherins curtly nodded at each other. “I was looking forward to yelling, honestly. Guess they’re above that.”

They weren’t above rumors, though. The next day it had spread through Hogwarts like the plague - Narcissa Black had slept with Gareth Greengrass, of all people, and left her panties on his bed. She was on the outs with her boyfriend, Malfoy, though one Hufflepuff first year claimed to have seen them kissing in the Astronomy tower. When they next saw Narcissa Malfoy, she had her head held high; but her nose and cheeks were red, and her eyes slightly bloodshot.

“I feel a bit bad for her, really,” Remus admitted. “All this over a few dungbombs. Goes to show the power of gossip, though.”

“You shouldn’t,” Sirius said darkly. “She deserves it.” He speared a piece of broccoli with his fork, and that was the end of the conversation.


	15. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw for this chapter - vomiting and implications of abuse.

Remus woke with a start. He couldn’t remember what he had been dreaming, but it hadn’t been good. He rolled over to try and get some sleep when someone pulled the covers off his bed. “Wakey wakey, birthday boy!” It was James, nearly sitting on top of him.

“ _ Coc oen _ , here I thought my birthday gift would be getting some sleep.”

“I mean, if you really wanted to…”

“Oh, lay off, Peter. Get up, Remus, unless you don’t want freshly baked cake for breakfast?”

“Fine,” Remus groaned. Sirius was laying on his bed, face down.

“Too early,” he said, though it was muffled by his mattress. 

“Buck up, Sirius, you were wide awake when  _ you _ were the birthday boy, and that was at three in the morning.” James hauled the boy off of his bed by the ankles. That did nothing but make him moan into the floor instead of his pillow.

“Have fun,” Remus said dryly. “I’m going to freshen up.” Even with the promises of cake, their morning classes wouldn’t be for nearly two hours, and it was the perfect time to take a shower. The hot water was wonderful on his skin, loosening muscles he hadn’t known were tense. Little rivulets of water dripped down his face, streaking through soap, and the pitter-patter of the constant deluge was a gentle massage.

He had toweled off and was just pulling his boxers on when Sirius stepped in. Remus’ heart leaped into his throat. He needed to get out, _now_ , run away and hide where no one could find him.  Sirius was rooted to the doorway, mouth gaping slightly.

“Get out!” Remus managed to choke. 

“Bloody hell.” Sirius’ trance was broken, and he wheeled around and shut the door firmly behind him. Remus’ chest went tight - he hadn’t even eaten yet, but his stomach was roiling, and all of a sudden his limbs were jerking and his muscles spasming in a way he couldn’t control. Then he was horribly, violently sick into the toilet, even though nothing came up but hot bile that burned his throat.

He was shaking a bit less, though he didn’t feel any better, and splashed some water on his face before pulling his robes on. That helped a little, though not much. He drew in a deep breath, hoping desperately that Sirius had not said anything, and ventured out of the bathroom. There was no way his anemia story would be believed now.

“Took you long enough,” James grinned. “You gave Sirius quite the fright, I didn’t know you were an exhibitionist.”

“I was taking a shit,” Remus said, rolling his eyes, though his hands were still quaking. “Come on, I didn’t wake up this early not to get cake.”

* * *

A magnificent chocolate and fudge cake, still warm and gooey from the oven, was waiting for them in the kitchens. James and Peter must have ventured down at the break of dawn and solicited the house elves to bake him something; Remus was touched. There was just enough for the four of them. Peter inhaled his, and James and Sirius ate rather quickly, but Remus savored every bite; there was something about chocolate that made him feel warm inside, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, and even penetrated his lingering anxiety from that morning’s incident.

They spent History of Magic passing each other notes and generally ignoring Professor Binn’s lecture on Uric the Oddball, an otherwise very interesting historical figure that was mangled by Binn’s dreadful delivery. Remus wasn’t usually one to goof off in class, but History hardly counted, seeing as the entire period was dedicated to an endless soliloquy by a teacher who had been deceased for decades and didn’t understand the concept of effective public speaking beyond enunciation. James suggested they skip class altogether, but Remus wouldn’t hear it.

In Transfiguration, they were meant to be turning frogs into bowler hats, and Remus was pleased that his hat was definitely recognizable - he had even managed a small satin bow wrapped around it, adorned with a few miniature flowers. Sirius’ hat was more of a fedora than anything, and he pulled it low over his eyes, trying to look mysterious but eventually just walking into a wall. James turned his frog into a polka-dotted party hat until a sharp look from Professor McGonagall prompted him to transform it into something more seemly.

At dinner they sang ‘Happy Birthday’ quite loudly, and a few of the older Gryffindors even joined in, apparently more for their own fun than for Remus’ benefit. Afterward, Remus suggested they explore some more in James’ invisibility cloak; due to the difficulty of maneuvering four growing boys beneath it, the item had been reserved for ‘special occasions.’ They wandered the castle for a few hours, tailing Filch and throwing dungbombs at him until the man seemed utterly frazzled. Finally, they stumbled upon an ugly statue of a hump-backed witch.

Peter rapped on the hump, leaning his ear against it and listening carefully. “Hollow,” he determined. “Bet there’s a secret passage, I’m sure there’s loads of abandoned ones around here, like that one behind the portrait of the dragon.”

“Merlin, there’s got to be hundreds of these things around the castle.”

Remus let his chin rest on his hand. “Let me try something.” He tapped his wand against the statue. “ _ Dissidium!” _ Sure enough, the hump opened into a small hole. The boys crept inside and pulled the cloak off once they were safe.

“Wonder where it goes,” James said, thinking out loud. “Hogsmeade, maybe?” The boys continued to trade theories until Remus smelled something - something wonderful.

“Chocolate,” he breathed. The other boys gave him an odd look.

“I think he overdosed on chocolate this morning,” Sirius said, in a whisper that was too loud for him not to be intended to hear. “That was a pretty rich cake.”

“Shut up, Sirius, I swear I can smell it.” Remus elbowed the long-haired boy in the ribs. They plodded along for a few more minutes, the tantalizing aroma growing ever stronger until the passage ended. Above them was a roughly-hewn wooden trap door. “ _ Alohomora,”  _ Remus whispered, then pushed it open without caution.

It was a small cellar, reminiscent of the ones Remus spent his full moons in, which made him shudder slightly. There were rickety wooden shelves stuffed to the brim with all sorts of sweets - Chocolate Frogs, Acid Pops, even an entire shelf dedicated to different flavors of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum.

“I can’t believe it, Remus was right,” James said. “I think we’re in Honeydukes!” They had no way of confirming the idea without potentially being caught, so instead, they explored the small but intricate maze of candy. 

“I’m always right.”

“Do you think it would be all right to take some, as long as we left some money?” Peter asked, practically drooling. “It’s not stealing if we pay for it…”

“I don’t see why not,” James agreed. He pulled out two golden galleons in his pocket -  _ where on earth did he get that? _ Remus wondered to himself, before remembering this was the boy who had gotten the newest Cleansweep for Christmas despite not even being able to bring it to Hogwarts - the Potters were an incredibly wealthy pureblood family, after all. Remus grabbed a box of chocolate frogs and stuffed it under his robes. “Happy birthday,” James grinned, tossing him a massive slab of Honeydukes chocolate.

“Thanks, mate,” Remus returned. When they left the cellar, they were all laden with candy, which they lay waste to once they returned to the dormitory. “So. A new secret passage. That’s what, the third one we’ve found?”

“Not really, it’s the first one that actually leads outside of the castle,” James countered. “The one behind the portrait of the dragon on the sixth floor doesn’t even go anywhere.”

“Still. I mean, if we’ve already found three, how many more do you think are out there? There’s more to this castle than meets the eye. I’ll bet even Dumbledore doesn’t know where everything is, and those school maps are practically useless.”

“Yeah...I mean, there’s eight stories if you count the ground floor, plus the dungeons and the towers, right?” Peter said. “The map we have only shows the first two stories. I don’t think we’d have even found our dormitories without the Prefects.”

“Exactly! James, think of how many hidden corridors there probably are!”

“I guess you’re right…” James said slowly. “Even accounting for the storage rooms, and the extracurriculars and club rooms...it’s a big castle.”

“Alright, then, we need a new map,” Sirius yawned. “Add it to the list. Getting back at the Slytherins takes precedence.”

“Whatever you say,” Peter shrugged. James flopped back onto his bed to sleep. 

* * *

It wasn’t until the next day that Remus managed to find a moment alone with Sirius. James was on the Quidditch pitch, as usual, and Peter had followed him, bringing two metal needles and a spool of yarn with him, apparently knitting a hat for his sister’s birthday. Remus, pretending to read his new copy of  _ The Hobbit _ that his parents had sent him, took a moment to steel himself.

“Sirius, I think we need to talk.” The other boy looked up from his own book, studying Remus carefully.

“Yeah, I think we do.”

“You can’t tell  _ anyone _ what you saw in there,” Remus said flatly.

“Wh- no! If someone’s hurting you, we’ve got to tell someone.” It wasn’t funny, really, but the idea was so absurd that Remus had to hold back a hollow sort of laughter. He pushed back the thoughts of what it said about Sirius, that he had jumped to such a conclusion so easily.

“There’s nothing wrong, mind your own bloody business, alright?” His heart was racing, and Godric, now his hands were trembling again. “Whatever you think, it’s not true.”

“Remus-” Sirius begged.

“It’s not! You won’t tell anyone. Swear it.” Sirius’ eyes were a steely-sort of grey, that had gone dangerously flinty - he hadn’t realized that before. They were both silent for a few moments.

“Fine. I swear,” Sirius said solemnly. “We all have secrets to keep.” Remus nodded, still eyeing Sirius suspiciously, and rolled over and returned to his book, though he wasn’t really reading it.  _ Secrets, _ something horrible inside him laughed, a terrible, gut-wrenching feeling.  _ If only you knew. _


End file.
